The End of Days
by Scribe
Summary: Sauron awakens to learn that he is not the only prisoner in Mandos. An unholy alliance allows the former lord of Mordor to gains access to powers that places Valinor and the modern world on a collision course whilst trapping the Valar in a another dimen
1. Default Chapter

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THE END OF DAYS

Prologue:

Melkor's Servant

The universe was very old.

These many had learnt through faith in their gods or studies by science were an incontrovertible fact, immutable by existence itself. Time was the one constant in the universe. Laws of physics while incapable of changing could be made flexible, energy could be diverted and space was curved but time? Time knew no master, it functioned on a straight line, a linear passage that began and ended at two separate points.

In his time as Lord of Mordor and minion of Morgoth, Sauron had learnt many truths about the world that not even the Valar were aware. Truths that would make their belief in the assurance of their vaunted positions shake like the foundations of a demolished building. He knew that there were rules to which even Eru were bound, rules written by a power that no one could understand, save the creator himself. There was a cycle to things, a beginning and an end that had to be observed even though Eru was supreme in all things. It was a law he would not break and indeed had never broken, not since the first themes of the Ainur had been sung, since Ea had been crafted out of the void.

He had been confined in his prison of flesh, left helpless by a cruel trick of fate that left him trapped within a cage he knew he would never penetrate. His mind, dulled by the defeat at the hands of his enemies, had for a time slumbered in the void, trying desperately to reform the fragments of his powerful psyche. In time, his mind returned to its former self but this achievement did not alter the fact that he was confined within his physical body with no hope of escape. He lay trapped in this mire of limbo, not knowing anything of the world beyond, not able to affect it in anyway, a situation that was wholly unacceptable and yet inescapable.

He had one visitor during his first months in this private hell. The child who was representative of the soul that had become the bane of his existence and had always ensured to play a part in his downfall throughout the ages. She would come to his cage and look within, watching with her silent eyes, daring him to escape. He would scream of her and threaten her with torments she could not imagine but it frightened her little for he was a tiger with no teeth. She came to him regularly, watching and saying little during her brief visits. 

After a time, he began to think that perhaps he would never escape from the confines of his mortal form, that he would be doomed to live within its casing for as long as the heart continue to beat inside David Saeran's chest. The possibility frustrated them him and filled him with black despair. He began to conceive that perhaps his time was done that the dreams of a glorious dark age was a dead to the world as he was. It was during the blackest moment of his despair that Sauron; former lord of Mordor remembered one vitally important thing. His mind may have been locked away from the physical world but Shadow world, which had provided him so much strength, was still open to him.

He found himself revisiting the realm he had not seen since the Third Age, the place that had been home to him when One Ring had been lost. Slowly, he used its dark power to nourish his own strength, though not enough to call attention to himself but he knew the Valar were ever watchful. In his outcast state, he planned how he might return, how he would vanquish his former master's brethren once and for all. The spells and wizardry required to accomplish such dark magic was within his knowledge but he lacked the real power to make any of it a reality.

He found himself wandering the pathways in the shadow realm, searching for a way to escape his unearthly confinement, to see what was beyond his injured shell. He found nothing. The Valar had been exceedingly thorough in ensuring that the dark dimension remained contained. Thus he was forced to find alternate means of escape and it was a matter of pure chance that he found a place where they had been recently, their power resonated through the cold, offering him a trail to follow. His mind moved carried by currents of force, patterns of energy that could not be measured by any science known to exist. He did not know how far he traveled in this nexus, only that it was very distant away from the waking world.

  
It could have been at the edge of all things or at the beginning of it. The place Sauron found himself had no name. It reeked of desolation and seemed like a void that was meant to house the greatest evils of all. The part of him that was David Saeran, thought hell might be an apt description even if there was no fire or brimstone. The most terrifying thing in the world is nothingness and when Sauron arrived in this place, with its plunging darkness, it was the first time in his existence that he felt real fear. The Void at least sat at the edge of Ea and though he had been trapped in it, he could still see Ea in the distance, offering comfort of what still existed. 

In this place, there was nothing. He would have fled if he had not sensed a tendril of something familiar, clawing at him, beckoning to come forth. He had followed that tendril until its radiation had become a vast globe of power, filling the darkness with awesome fiery light. He saw it swirling about an orb of unimaginable power, orbiting like a lonely sun. He marveled at its energy, felt it whispering to him like a lover and as he approached, the wave of familiarity becoming stronger, more potent.

__

I knew you would find me.

The voice was soft and as disembodied as his own. He heard it through a great noise and realized that he was hearing it through flame. It took him a moment to realize that it was emanating from inside the orb, piercing the fiery layer to reach him.

"Melkor?"

__

Master,' the voice repeated itself. _You forget your self_. 

"Forgive me," Sauron replied acidly. "I thought the Valar destroyed you.

__

They do not have the stomach for such finality but they have found a way to imprison me nonetheless.

"How? "

__

The orb you see before you is the sum of my power, they have encased me a prison of created from my own essence. I cannot breach it. 

"This is you Master?" 

If he had eyes he would have gaped at overwhelming force before him. This was the sum of Melkor's unleashed power, the one not tainted by a physical body or held in check by the Valar. In this place, the Ainur were as they had been when Illuvutar dreamed the first themes of the Great Music and fashioned the children he would called the Valar from each note. In this place, Melkor was as close to his former glory as he could ever be, when he was capable of creating mountains and balrogs with a simple thought. All the darkness of the world had come to being when Melkor was at his most potent.

__

I called you here, my childe, my greatest disciple because only you have the strength to free me. Do this and we will rule as we have never ruled. 

"How can I do that?" Sauron asked cautiously. His present situation was precarious enough without risking himself on some foolish venture for a creature he would again have to bow before like a supplicant.

__

The power must be drawn away from me, siphoned if you will so a breach can be formed. Through this weakening I will come forth. I summoned you here because your will was always greater than all others. You can do this Sauron, you can free me.

"How can I absorb this? " he asked, "I am not Valar."

__

My power does not recognize what master wields it, it only knows the instruction. The Ainur are little more than orbs of energy given life by sentience. My prison binds me and no matter how I try I cannot make the crossing. It must be weakened from beyond, to allow my sentience to escape. Once I am freed of it, I shall take what is mine.

"How interesting," Sauron said as his form approached the orb. 

He had no skin but he could feel its heat, could feel its incredible power emanating like the blast from a hot furnace. It beckoned him, the full measure of Melkor's power, to do as his former master had asked. He thought of the First Age when he had truly known power, when he was Morgoth's fearsome lieutenant. The failures of the futures ages had seemed so distant then, so improbable. He thought he had risen above that, risen above the petty efforts of mortals lesser than he when he had returned to the world and yet he was still here, in this place about to become a servant again. 

Not this time.

Sauron opened his senses, freed himself of all barriers and let the power that needed someone strong enough to take it, bleed into him, slow aching tendrils of amber snaking around his incorporeal self. The orb began to dim from its fiery, reddish glow, diminishing as more and more energy became drawn to his indomitable will, connecting to him because he simply wanted it enough. It found kinship with a mind that was at last equal to its awesome might. 

__

That is it, my disciple, Melkor's voice said exuberantly. _It is working!_

  
It is indeed, Sauron thought but for all the different reasons. 

The orb began to diminish and he could feel his own life force burgeoning, growing with a surge of power he had never dared to dream was possible. However, it did not come to him without price. If he had limbs, he would have felt each to be roasting alive, as if every cell in his non-existent body was imploding. He bore it bravely, refused to cry out as he absorbed every particle of energy that had been the crown of Melkor's power His mind began to open, doors swinging open, bringing clarity and understanding that made what came before seem limited and blinding. No more half measures, no more fear that the Valar would stop him. He had failed before because he lacked the power to carry out the ambitions of his intellect. Such was no longer the case.

__

What are you doing? Melkor demanded. _You are drawing too much!_

"No I am not," Sauron answered the wayward child of Eru, "I am drawing it _all_."

__

NO! It is mine! You will cease immediately! 

"Or what?" Sauron challenged. "You still do not understand the elegance of the Valar's trap do you? They did not simply encase you in a shell of your own power, they _disconnected_ you. You are separate from what you were. You cannot breach it because you are no longer connected to it but you have shown me how to absorb that excess energy and for that I am eternally grateful. So my former master, I will give you a reward and deliver you from this hell."

The orbs were shrinking like a dying star, its amber light fading away fast. In the core of his dwindling cell of energy, Melkor was finding the walls closing in on him.

__

You cannot do this! I am your master!

"My master?" Sauron hissed. "All you have ever been was a means to an end. You allowed me to escape the grasp of that provincial laborer Aule. For a time you amused me Lord Melkor," the title escaped him with content, "we shared the same passion for destruction but then you became obsessed with a jewel and were willing to throw it all away. I must confess I was myself ensnared by a bauble but no more, this time I will destroy them all and I will not be satisfied with just the elves and the weakling humans. The Valar will never chain me as they chained you. I will not make your mistakes and I will shown none _any_ mercy."

__

You would not dare strike at the Valar! Eru would never stand for it!

"Eru? " Sauron laughed. "Where he has been all these years? You may be a dilettante but you are not a fool. Eru is off travelling the universe, recreating new Petrie dishes for his experiments on morality and evil. He has not cared about Arda since you decided to turn it into a demon's playground. Why do you think he banished the others from the Timeless Halls? He needed someone to manage this experiment while he went off to begin another. He will not interfere because he simply does not care."

__

You cannot have any more! 

Melkor wailed helplessly through the darkness as the orb all but vanished around him and had reformed around the presence that was Sauron. It burned bright around his former servant; a glow so radiant that it almost threatened to penetrate the black nothingness that he was coming to realize would be his grave.

Sauron approached Melkor when he had taken all his power and looked upon the failed god whose ambition was never equal to his power, who could have it all but became obsessed with the Silmarils and ruined everything because of his need for it. Finally after so many aeons, Melkor would know who truly ruled his kingdom while he sat upon its throne like the figurehead that he was. 

__

I underestimated you, the whimpering pathetic voice said.

"By quite a bit I imagine, " Sauron answered, "but do not underestimate me now. I said you will be rewarded and rewarded you shall be. "

The sentience that was Melkor cringed in fear. _You cannot kill me, _it said desperately_. I am Ainur_.

"You were Ainur," Sauron answered as he christened his newfound powers by an appropriate act of murder. "But now you are nothing."

Clenching a fist of energy around the tiny morsel of Melkor's remaining self, Sauron crushed all that was left of his master in a final scream of agony.

"And I," Sauron said as he turned his attention back to the world of flesh and blood, "am going to be everything."

**CHAPTER ONE**

**BACK TO MAIN PAGE**


	2. Chapter One

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Chapter One:

A Change in the Weather

If Tory came home early she would kill him. 

It was a sad state of affairs indeed when Bryan Miller who in his lifetime had killed numerous enemies during his time as an intelligence operative and had prevented a dark lord from wreaking Armageddon, was afraid of his girlfriend discovering what he done to her kitchen. He knew that when she had decided to take Fred and join Miranda on a picnic some hours away from here, that he would not have a better time to put into place the experiment he had been dying to attempt for some months now. 

However, an experiment of this magnitude was simply not complete with compatriots to share the moment. He had asked Aaron Stone who promptly told him that he was man-child bordering on lunatic who needed a new hobby. Bryan supposed a doctor was not the person to ask to join him on this particular endeavor. Nor was it any use recruiting Frank who these days was so lost within the libraries of Tirion that he was no longer said to be sleeping but rather hanging upside down from the rafters when he needed the rest, like a bat in a belfry.

Thus he brought into this fellowship (and he had every right to use _that_ word), Eric Rowan and Jason Merrick, two companions he was certain would share his enthusiasm for the project and was just as depleted as he at having to go without what they were trying to produce. Shortly after Tory and Fred had taken off with Miranda Miller, Bryan's sister-in-law, Bryan, Eric and Jason had sprung into action, commandeering the kitchen and waiting for the arrival of the final member of their quest. The elf arrived a short time later, bringing the final ingredients even though he was at something of a loss to explain why his human companions would need these particular items.

"This smells badly," Elrohir remarked to Bryan as the room filled with a light mist and the display of boiling pots, paddles, rubber stopper, fermenter lid and tubes. 

"Keep stirring," Bryan barked at the elf who rolled his eyes and continued to swirl a wooden spoon in the concoction of malt syrup. "You don't want it to stick to the bottom of the pain."

"Are you sure this stuff is safe?" Jason looked dubiously at the yeast substance so vital for the final product. "It reeks."

"Well fermentation will do that," Bryan retorted. "You know if I knew you were going to complain like a bunch of hens, I would have done this myself."

"Oh lighten you cranky pom," Eric retorted opening a window, "I haven't a had drink in weeks either and I'm nowhere as tense as you."

"I'm not tense," Bryan gave Eric a look, "but if I have to drink anymore of this elf wine or whatever it is they call it, I'm going to be prancing around like a bloody fairy."

"I resent the implication," Elrohir threw back at Bryan with a look of annoyance on his face. "The faerie are a myth of _your_ world, not of ours."

"Will you keep stirring?" Bryan declared pointing at the pot and putting the elf's mind on track. "You can't let it get all lumpy."

"You know," Jason grumbled, "it might be simpler just to sail back to England to get some beer instead of making it ourselves."

"Trust me," Bryan remarked, lovely visions of warm lager and vindaloo filing his consciousness, "I've thought of it."

"And I thought Legolas' obsession with coke was a problem," Eric shook his head.

"Legolas' obsession is a problem," Bryan said crisply, "mine is just fine as it is."

"So where did you shunt poor Lady Tory to in order to carry out this mischief," Elrohir inquired, wondering how he had become embroiled in this affair. 

"Oh she and Miranda wanted to take the kids out for some fresh air and a picnic," Bryan said distracted as he continued to ensure that the tub and other equipment were in good working order for the fermentation process. "Fred's been acting a little strange lately. Her nightmares seem to be coming back." He paused long enough to meet their gazes to show all present that it was a source of concern to him even if he did not make deeper mention of it.

"Nightmares?" Eric looked at him. "She have them a lot?"

"Well when we first arrived here, all the time," Bryan said remembering those nights when he and Tory would have to run into her room following a piercing scream broken by a heart-wrenching sob. Bryan could never bear to hear that sound and would often stay with the child all night if it meant she could feel safe enough to close her eyes to sleep. "Of course, being a prisoner of Sauron would do that to anyone. After awhile they stopped and I thought she was over but in the last few weeks it has started again. I'm wondering if it has to do with it coming close to the anniversary of her mum and dad's death."

"Probably," Jason remarked, "children see a lot more than they let on."

"And in Fred's case it is especially true," Elrohir remarked. "She is after all a Ringbearer. Frodo's ordeal with the One Ring has left a mark upon his soul that carries from life to life."

Bryan did not comment on that because he often felt that it was unfair to have one soul burdened with the duty of ending great darkness. He supposed he saw her as a child and was unable to be so arbitrary when he thought of her place in the scheme of things. As Frodo, the Ringbearer had been forced to endure a terrible quest in order to save the world they knew and as Fred, she had been the focal point around which all forces had gathered in the destruction of David Saeran's bid for an empire borne of nuclear fire. Perhaps it was by cosmic design that it would be this particular soul that stood against great evil in any age. It was also why Bryan was so fiercely determined to protect her. The elves seemed to think that this was his penance as Boromir of Gondor, for failing the Ringbearer during the quest. Maybe it was that but he knew he loved her like his own child and in the face of that, it made prophecy and design unimportant by comparison.

"Well I hope it passes," Eric answered capable of seeing the real depth of concern, despite the Englishman's bravado. In the last five months, he and Bryan Miller had struck up a close friendship. Both men finding a lot in common in that they possessed the same laconic humor and general cynicism that Jason described as being 'two prats in a pod.'

"It will," Elrohir said confidently, "the soul of the Ringbearer is if nothing, resilient."

"I am surprised that Aaron isn't here," Jason remarked, aware that Bryan and Aaron were extremely close even though the two men were as different as night and day.

"You know doctors," Bryan grumbled. "Said something about having no interest to corrupting paradise with the evils of alcohol and having no desire to start AA meetings in Valinor. This is what happens when you get married."

Elrohir paused long enough to swat Bryan on the shoulder, "it is my sister that you speak of?" Elrohir gave him a look.

"And yet you've never been married," Bryan pointed out with a grin.

"That is by choice," Elrohir replied and then added with a smile of mischief, "and by the appearance of it, a wise one as well."

"I thought so," Bryan retorted smugly.

**************

This was all because of that damned sword.

It sat there on his mantle piece staring back at him, issuing challenge even though he knew it was perfect ludicrous to assume that he could wield it like its former master but the gauntlet was nevertheless thrown. In days of old, the weapon had ridden into battle with a king, it was a symbol of his sovereignty and power, Excalibur to Arthur and a rallying point for thousands to fight against ultimate evil. To wield it in battle was to realize the potential in himself, the man he once was and the man he could be.

Which was now why he was in the position of having his ass continuously kicked by a smirking elf. 

Aaron Stone stared at Legolas Greenleaf who was standing over him with his own sword, smiling as he tripped over in what was at least the dozen time in the last hour. Anduril lay sprawled at his feet, staring at him judgmentally for putting it through this embarrassment. Aaron was sure that if the weapon could talk, it would be telling him to forget this idea and just return it to the mantle piece. However, Aaron was not about to give up, he was not about to give up because was determined, he was resolute and at the very least, aiming to wipe that smug grin off Legolas' face.

"Come Aaron," Legolas offered him a hand to help him up. "We should try again. You must learn to evade my blade a little better. Your skill requires a little more practice."

"You're enjoying this," Aaron stared at him as he stood up begrudgingly and picked up Anduril once more.

"Enjoy seeing my best friend beaten and demoralized?" Legolas looked at him with an expression of hurt on his refined feature before bursting into a grin. "It is the most enjoyment I have experienced in centuries."

"Were you ever able to beat Aragorn?" Aaron asked as they stood outside the grassy knoll near his and Eve's home that had become their practice floor since he had decided to learn sword craft seriously. He brushed the bits of grass and dust that had attached itself to his clothes since this session had begun. 

  
"Not always," Legolas answered honestly. "He was the best swordsman of his day, he learnt to wield a blade fighting elves and so among men, this made him exceptionally swift. I have seen him thrust into battle with great numbers to emerge victorious with many around him dead. The man had no equal in battle," Legolas replied thinking of the adventures he had shared with Aragorn, the times they had lived through together. Despite the passage of so much time, Legolas had yet to know so heady a moment as his race across Rohan tracking the hobbits with Aragorn and Gimli.

  
"Yeah," Aaron turned away, "he was quite the guy." 

Legolas sensed something in the human's voice at that moment, a tension that was not there before. "Aaron, I have upset you."

"No," Aaron shook his head, telling himself that this was foolishness. He was a psychiatrist for Christ's sake; he shouldn't be feeling this inadequacy. "It's nothing."

"We have known each other too long for you attempt to deceive me," he looked at Aaron critically.

"That's just it Legolas," he met the elf's eyes. "We don't know each other all that long. You knew Aragorn. I'm not him."

"I am aware of that in every way, Aaron," Legolas placed a hand on his shoulder, revealing his great age and wisdom at that moment. "I mourn Aragorn and there is not a day that I do not miss the times we have shared but I am grateful for the new adventures you and I have seen through. I know you are not he. You are my friend because you are Aaron who is a great healer, who has more strength than you know, who brought home to us Olorin and the Evenstar and cannot wield a blade to save his own skin," Legolas added with a grin.

Aaron met his gaze with a look, "your people are meant to be serene and soothing. What happened to you?"

"My father blames it on my friendship with humans and dwarves," Legolas retorted with mischief. "It has ruined me."

"Tell me," Aaron replied feeling a little better after Legolas' words, "did Aragorn have the urge to beat the crap out of you for being such a smart ass?" 

"Constantly," Legolas smirked, "however, he knew better than to try." 

Which was not at all true because Legolas could remember instances when Aragorn had been angry enough to make him account for his actions. While they had never come to a real match, he knew that Aragorn had been fast enough to take him if the king had so desired. 

"Well," Aaron said with an evil gleam in his eyes, "it was probably because you're so pretty."

Legolas' face darkened. "That is not amusing."

"Oh but it is," Aaron continued to tease, " it must be the long hair."

"I warn you," Legolas bristled. "I may not kill you but I know how to leave you a scar for good measure."

"Hey I'm armed too," Aaron gestured to Anduril as they started to head back towards the house.

"Please," Legolas snorted. "I am in more danger from a hobbit with a rock than you at this moment."

"Right here buddy," the human snorted completed with hand gesture that Legolas recognized from his time in modern day Arda as being not at all courteous. 

Returning to the house at the edge of Tirion, Legolas still could not become accustomed to the small, provincial home that Aaron and Eve had chosen for themselves. Though it was furnished with all the necessary comforts, Legolas thought it was too small for a daughter of Elrond to inhabit. If anything, it reminded him a little of Bag End in its quaint manner. However, he noted that many of the humans arriving in Valinor in recent times preferred residences such as this. For elves, who liked the comfort of communal dwelling, this seemed rather isolationist. Still humankind had changed over the last hundred thousand years and they had to be forgiven for their eccentricities.

"If it soothes you any better," Legolas added as they came through the door way, "you are improving."

"Really?" Aaron looked at him skeptically, "I am becoming better than just awful?"

"Now stop feeling sorry for yourself," Legolas retorted. "At least you are learning. My effort to teach Bryan has been met with some remark about pigs taking flight."

Aaron cracked a grin, "well you know Bryan," he shrugged. "If it doesn't have things going boom spectacularly, he's not all the interested. Although if he screws up at home with what he's presently doing, I'm selling tickets when Tory finds out."

"Ah his brewing of ale you mean," Legolas nodded. "He intended to gain my participation in this affair but I was not interested. I believe Elrohir is helping him however. I do not imbibe spirits well."

"Yeah," Aaron grinned as he went into the kitchen for some coffee, "I heard about that poem you recited at your first wedding. The one about the young lady from Minas Tirith whose body was shaped like a..."

  
"I do not believe you need to recite the whole thing," Legolas cut him off, his expressed scrunched into chagrin as he remembered the incident where he had been so inebriated that he had made a complete and utter spectacle of himself during his wedding to Melia. Fortunately when it was time to take his oaths of marriage to Ariel, he had learnt better.

Aaron laughed, "well just for that, I won't tell you the one about the preacher, the rabbi and the Buddhist..."

***********

Frank Miller was in heaven.

All right not actually heaven but as close to heaven as an archaeologist could manage. He was surrounded by books so old that they were almost living history in itself, beyond the data recorded within him. In the great elvish library of Tirion, Frank had been throwing himself into the business of learning everything there was to know about this new world he had stumbled into. It was ironic. When he had first learnt of elves and Middle-earth, he had been certain that his entire life's pursuit had been one big fallacy but now that he had arrived in Valinor, he was learning otherwise. Everything was new again, a fresh page that he could not tear his eyes away from no matter how much he tried. He knew he was being obsessed and was neglecting his family somewhat but they were accustomed to his academic episodes where he was buried in study for weeks on end. 

At first Frank had required the use of a translator to read most of the texts but then he got tired of having to tax poor Elladan's time and so he began to learn how to speak it. It was not difficult for Frank whose IQ point were high into genius level to grasp the finer points of Quenya and Sindarin. It was all in the alphabet he had said and if he could learn to read Sanskrit and Cuneiform, then this though complex, was not impossible. He had poured through most of the First Age texts, learning the history of the Simarils whose end history he had played a small part. He learnt that despite their seemingly placid and idyllic appearance, the elves could be most warlike and capable of rampaging violence just like any other race. 

What fascinated him however, were the dwarves. It sounded odd to the hearing but it was the truth.

The history books, those he had read beyond the First Age spoke of the dwarves and the part they played in the affairs of Middle earth. Their fates were closely intertwined with the races of men and elves through the ages even if he read them as being somewhat isolationist. They were largely concerned with their own affairs, natural miners and craftsman who produced some of the most exquisite objects to have ever emerged from the mind of an artist, a fascinating study Frank found. However, beyond the Fourth Age, little was known of their fates. The elf Legolas, whom Frank found to be a kindred spirit in his appreciation of the dwarf culture, had told him much about what he knew personally and Frank had not missed the intense sadness in the elven prince's eyes when he spoke about the dwarf Gimli. Frank had the sense that Legolas felt it somewhat unfair that while his human friends had been reincarnated, there was of yet not an appearance from his old friend Gimli in a new form.

The old wizard Gandalf, who came to see him on numerous occasions and found it enormously funny that he should find Frank in a library surrounded by books and maddeningly would not tell him why, remarked that the spirit of dwarves go to the depths of the earth in death. There, they awaited for the End of Days to be called by their creator Aule to aid in the remaking of the world in the aftermath of typical Armageddon like events. However, what intrigued Frank was not so much where they would be when that day arose but rather where they had been since. They had no Valinor to hide themselves and the modern world had no recollection of dwarves other than in fairy tales. 

So what had happened to them?

He was pondering the question, surrounded by books played across the table in an unruly fashion with notes all over the place. Miranda said she had never seen him happier than when he had a puzzle to unravel and this was a challenging as they came. He wanted to go back to the places where their strongholds had been, explore the caves where they mined Mithril and learnt what happened to make their entire race vanish off the face of the earth for the past one hundred thousand years. When things were not so dangerous back in the real world, what Frank deemed the life before Valinor, he intended to go back and explore that question more fully.

"I can see why Sorunme is so vexed," Elladan paused at the door way to the little annex that Frank had claimed as his own. "Have you every book in the library here?" He asked surveying the collection on the table as he entered.

"Unfortunately," Frank peered over his glasses, "you people have yet to discover the benefits of a PC or a databases so I have to find some way of having all the information I need at my finger tips."

"Your people rely too much on your devices," Elladan remarked coming to sit down, "picking up one of the text and musing over it. 

"Says the man who spends most of his time on Aaron's boat watching the Xena box set that Cirdan brought from England," Frank retorted sarcastically.

"I shall cross the sea to this land where she dwells and meet her," Elladan said seriously, "I am told by Jason that it is very beautiful."

"New Zealand," Frank rolled his eyes, "where men are men, women are women and sheep are nervous."

"What?" Elladan stared at him. "What does sheep to do with it?"

"Never mind," Frank shrugged, "so did you come here for any particular reason or do you miss my singular wit?"

"Your wit is singular," Elladan retorted and Frank had the sense that it was not a compliment. "However, you are correct, I was wondering whether you have given any thoughts as to going with me to Formenos. It is the ancient stronghold of Feanor, the creator of the Silmarils."

Frank looked up with interest and could not deny that he would like to see the legendary home of Feanor, the elf who by all accounts was responsible for the great wars of the First Age. He also wanted to know the mind that had crafted the Silmarils and sometimes, the place where the master craftsman had conducted his work was more telling than all the books in the library. "I'm all yours," Frank replied with a grin and then paused a moment, "I'd like to bring Miranda and the kids with me as well. I've been dreadfully neglectful of them since I arrived and I should like to make it up to them."

"Well you have been behaving like a hermit," Elladan pointed out. "If it were not for the crumbs left on your plate when meals were brought to you and this continually growing mountain of books and scrolls, we would not even know you were alive."

"Very droll," Frank gave him a look. "It just so happens, I am attempting to unravel a mystery."

"A mystery?" Elladan's brow arched. "I do not believe that there are any left in Valinor. One hundred thousand years on this island has ensured that we know everything that has ever transpired."

  
"I'm not surprised," Frank replied, unable to imagine such a thing as a culture being trapped in stasis for so long. The evolution of the elves had been slight and he could well understand why so many of them were leaving these shores to explore the world outside after being hidden away for so long. Frank had no doubt that this would inspire a new age for them as well as provoke a burst of creative and technological advancement that was long overdue in his opinion. A race had to evolve or it would grow stagnant. Nature despised a vacuum.

"Actually," he met Elladan's gaze, "I was trying to learn what happened to the dwarves."

"The dwarves?" Elladan exclaimed in surprise. "We assumed they retreated to their mines deep in the earth."

"My people have never seen them," Frank declared. "We have no record of them on any level. There are stories about dwarves like there are of elves but they are fairy tales, not based on any tangible fact. I can't believe they had simply disappeared without a trace. These texts indicate they played a big part in the events of the first three ages, something must have become of them after that."

Elladan did not know how to answer but were certain that the answers that Frank sought out were not to be found on Valinor. The Eldar and Durin's folk had never enjoyed harmonious relations despite the rare instances of camaraderie that existed like that of Legolas and Gimli. After the last of his people had left the world of Middle earth behind, there was scarcely a thought pondered as to what had become of the dwarves. Like the rest of the elves, Elladan assumed they had confined themselves to their mountain enclaves or deep beneath the earth, in the mines they loved so much.

"I cannot offer you the answers you seek," Elladan confessed, "perhaps if we see Olorin, he may be able to inquire of Aule what has happened to his children."

Frank was momentarily satisfied by the possibility although the truth was he had suspicions of his own regarding the fate of the dwarves and despite the fact that the elves seemed to believe they may have faded into time, Frank believed that the dwarves were not as diminished as everyone thought. In fact, he was almost certain that they existed and were waiting for the right time to emerge, whenever that might be. 

And lately for reasons Frank could not discern, he felt as if that time was approaching fast.

***********

There were moments when Ariel, wife of Legolas wondered whom he had truly married. 

While she could not deny his love for her, that was apart of her that always wondered who it was he saw when he looked at her. For most part, there was no doubt in her mind that when Legolas looked upon her, it was Ariel that he saw, Ariel who had been his wife these hundred millennia, who had never bore him sons or daughters because he had claimed they were happy enough without children. Then there were other moments, quiet, haunting times when she saw a flicker of something else in his clear blue eyes, a glimmer that was alien as it was familiar. It was those instances when she was certain that their life together was merely to him an extension of the one he had shared with the wife whose soul he believed she possessed.

Ariel did not remember Melia, daughter of Hezare though she was spoken fondly by both Gimli when he was alive and Haldir. She knew that Legolas believed her to be the incarnation of Melia's parted mortal soul, given life in an elven body and returned to him. He had known this the moment he laid eyes upon her and learnt that she had been born on the day that his beloved Melia had passed. She tried to remember that other life, that woman who had captured Legolas' heart so, who wore that dress, a faded blue thing little more than a scrap of cloth now, kept preserved in the chest that even she was forbidden to touch. If she remembered Melia, it would be easier to bear but she did not and each year, her doubt grew just a little more until it had become a gaping hole inside of her she dared not confess to him.

When she had met Eve McCaughley for the first time, Ariel had met a kindred spirit. Someone who understood all too well what it was like to exist in a world where those around her remembered clearly who she had been, especially when she herself did not. Surrounded by a family and friends who had met the Evenstar and knew that Eve was her incarnation in mortal flesh, Eve had had been just as overwhelmed and it had been Ariel's pleasure to offer her friendship. They had become fast friends since Eve's arrival and spent much time together when their husband were off rediscovering exploits of their own.

"I think he has never wanted a child of mine," Ariel said one day as they sat on the deck of the Anemone looking out into the Bay of Eldamar."

"What?" Eve looked at Ariel in shock. "Don't be insane," she refuted. "Leggy adores you."

"He adores Melia," Ariel said with a sad expression as she stared at the dance of light across the water's surface, "and he already had children with her."

"I think you're wrong," Eve said quickly, hating to think that Legolas could be capable of being so short sighted. "I think he just wants you all to himself."

"I wonder if that is true," she replied, shifting her gaze to Eve. "Your father and mother consider you theirs even though you are mortal. You are not Undomiel and they see that and know this is the truth. They know you have your own path to walk and sometimes path is filled with danger and chance. I do not think Legolas feels the same about me."

Eve wanted to deny it but she could not because Legolas _was_ extremely over protective of Ariel and one had to wonder how much of it had to do with his being afraid for her safety as he was afraid for losing the love of his life yet again. Elves mated only once it seemed and when they lost a mate, the pining did not cease with time. In the days of old before the elves lived with danger in Middle earth, before they removed to the safety of Valinor, elves that lost their mates could pine to death. Legolas had lost his precious Melia a mere fifty years after their marriage, a single drop in the endless pool of elven mortality.

"You know," Eve said giving her a look, "if I knew this was going to depress you so much, I wouldn't have told you about the baby."

"Oh I am sorry," Ariel said automatically as she saw Eve's hand resting on her belly. "I did not mean to dampen your spirits. I am terribly grateful you chose to confide in me about the babe."

"Well Aaron didn't want to make a big deal of it just yet," Eve smiled radiantly, filling with pride and happiness at the life swelling inside of her, the life that had been given form by her love and Aaron's. "You people have a celebration for everything and I can't just imagine the fanfare that will come about if Elrond and Celebrian find out they're going to be grandparents. They feel cheated as is since it's highly improbable that either of the twins will _ever_ get married. We're just going to savor it a little before we make the announcement."

"They are merely happy to see their family grow," Ariel answered, grateful for Eve's companionship and understanding. "I shall be a wonderful aunt to your daughter."

"Daughter?" Eve crooked a brow, "your keen elf sense telling you something that I don't know about?"

"Well after repeated hearing of the tales of Thelma and Louise," Ariel said with a smile of mischief, "a daughter can be as full of possibility as a boy child so I should hope a girl since I have wealth of new found wisdom to impart to her."

"Well power to you sister," Eve laughed. 

*********

He had waited.

  
He could have emerged at any time but he chose to wait. 

Patience had been his greatest virtue. In truth, it was his only virtue. Though he had more than enough power to tear a ragged hole through this world, he had bided his time, ensuring that his strength returned to him in all its fullness. Strength that he had stolen from his mentor and then used to hide the evidence of his crime, deep in the pit of that abyss he had found Melkor entombed. He had slipped out unnoticed, drawing away all of the dark one's power, tricking Melkor into believing that he could be trusted, all the while planning the fallen Valar's final end. Melkor had been so surprised when he had realised the truth, that he had fashioned a servant whose ambition and ruthlessness outstrip anything he had ever imagined himself capable. 

Sauron, former dark lord of Mordor, relished that surprise more than he relished snuffing out Melkor's existence forever.

Once he had taken all he could from Melkor, he had concealed his crime because it was not yet time for him to emerge. The body in which he had been trapped, flesh injured and vacant needed healing. He needed the casing of meat to move about in the world he would soon assume as his own. Odd how he had become so attached to the thing after three hundred years of existence as a human. As his mind began the slow process of repair, neurons finding connection in the broken soup of neural pathways, other things became clear. He sought out his minions, whispered softly in their ears, allowing the shadows to acts as his heralds.

  
He allowed Namo to go about his business, maintaining the Halls of Mandos while he traveled its less frequented paths. Moved through the craggy passages that took him away from the hallowed places where the elves were consecrated upon death, he followed the dark paths to the dungeons where the demons were kept under lock and key. Demons who died had souls too and though theirs were dark and terrible, they could not be vanquished for their souls were the property of Eru and the Valar were not allowed to affect it. It was only the souls of men that the Valar could not restrain for they had a higher plan under Eru's gaze. However, the dark things, the creatures of Melkor twisted hatred, slain through the ages, lingered in the deepest, most innermost dungeon that Namo could design in the halls of Mandos.

There they waited the eternity in darkness, scrambling for escape but finding none and turning upon each other in the futility of their despair. He found them, the balrogs, the urloki and the watchers. Evil dark things whose life force was commended to this prison like Pandora's box awaiting opening a new. Except it would be no woman who would unleashed them by her curiosity. This time, it would be he. He spoke to them, whispered his promises of life beyond death of an existence of exquisite pleasure, a world above where the feasting was good and the victims were in the billions, they listened in the dark swearing their allegiance and waiting for the moment to act.

And there were others, beyond Mandos, waiting in the shadow world for direction, waiting for him to come back. He called to them, told them to prepare and make ready for war that was coming and this time, he knew how to win and it would have nothing to do with a ring or power. It had to do with chaos. Unadulterated, simple, pure, beatific chaos. He would spread it across the globe like ball of fire. He wold see it all burn to ashes and those who had chose to defy him would live just long enough to see all that they held dear turn into a cinder spark of fire.

He called to them in the waking world, to those who lived closed to the core of the world that had been driven there by the machinery of change, of a world infested by the pestilence of humanity. They remained hidden in the earth, in the dark crevasses where neither man, elf nor beast walked. They waited slumbering in the bottom of cold waters, far away from the surface and the light. He spoke to them, commanded them and reminded them that he was not dead, that he was very much alive no matter what the Valar might think. It was time for them to emerge from their hiding places, to lift their heads once more and join him in a fight that would cover the world in darkness and give them dominion over it once again. 

As it was when Melkor first left the Timeless Halls far ahead of the others who had remained afraid by the possibilities of what lay beyond, when the world was dark and the feeding was good.

And would be again when he had led them to their dark victory.

********

  
He who was Namo, lord of Mandos sensed a shift he could not explain. 

In Halls of Waiting where the souls of men and elves came to wait before passing into what was beyond, the Doorsman of the Valar could feel a tremor in his heart he could not explain. It was a strange sensation and had he been mortal or elf, he would have recognized it as uneasiness but for one who was eternal and had stood in the presence of Eru, it was merely a curiosity he could not define. His mate Vaire sensed it too and had paused in her weaving in the Halls of Dead to comment about the shift but neither could say what it was exactly that had give them this odd feeling.

He found himself moving through the corridors of his fortress, his eyes sweeping across the desolate grey of the Encircling Sea. The waves seemed to churn with some unspoken menace and all of it, like a sky that was suddenly covered by cloud, felt wrong. He moved through the halls of the dead, studied the histories of the world, help in memory by the crafty hands of his wife's weaving. He saw the tapestries that depicted the birth of the world, the destruction of the lamps and the War of the Wrath. She was weaving new tapestries now, recording all that had come to pass in recent times, for these days were are watershed days and in the ages to come, would be revered by the generations yet to be born.

He traveled through the halls where only men now seemed to come for it had been many leagues since and elf had passed this way. He left the safety of these known places and took the winding staircase that seemed to corkscrew deep into the earth where his most dangerous prisoner was trapped in cage of useless flesh. He was not the only visitor who took this dark path since the arrival of his latest prisoner. Aule too had made this journey even though Namo had warned against it. It would serve nothing, he had warned but Aule was stubborn as he was determined. 

After all, Sauron had been his servant.

Namo suspected that there was a part of Aule that never quite recovered from the shock of what Sauron had become. The craft that Aule had taught his servant had been used to serve Melkor and to forge the rings of power that had brought so much grief across the lands of Middle earth. Some could not be saved, Namo had said to him on numerous occasions and particularly of late when he chose to torment himself by trying to understand how he had failed Sauron so spectacularly as a mentor and was powerless to stop his servant's terrible ruin.

Descending into the shadows where others did not venture willingly, Namo journeyed to the depths were Sauron, former lord of Mordor and disciple of Melkor was incarcerated. The air began to chill from the warmth of Valinor's heat. Though the temperatures were always cool in the Halls of the Dead, it was never icy. The dead seemed to absorb heat the way no living mind could comprehend, but there was a design to it that only Namo understood. However, as he made his way to Sauron, the cold deepened further away from the cool he was accustomed, becoming sharp and invasive.

Something was a foot that he could not understand and though good sense would have him returning to the surface and asking Vaire to join him for there was prudence in such reasoning, Namo continued to Sauron's cell nonetheless. The door at which the steps emptied against stood tall and high, made of iron and stone. It was a cruel looking thing that towered over the heads of men and elf. Thick heavy gears and long bolts of steel held it in place and only Ainur was capable of opening it. 

The door opened without Namo having to exert any physical strength. It simply knew that the master of its domain had arrived and slowly, it creaked open until the creak moved into the heavy grounding of metal against the stone floor. He paused when he saw wisps of vapor exuding from the widening cracks and as he touched the walls, felt his hand shrink back as if it were made of ice for it was cold enough to be discerned as such. Alarmed as much as an immortal god could be, Namo entered the cell that had been Sauron's prison since his return to Valinor.

The innards of the room were little more than a hollow carved in the rock. A large stone platform lay in the center of the room where the mortal body of Sauron was stretched in silent repose. As Namo approached him, the Valar's gaze shifted over the ice particles forming against the stone walls and even on the floor. A think layer of mist swirled around his waist as he moved and through this fog, he saw Sauron lying comfortably where he had been since his arrival, eyes closed unaware of anything. Namo came to a pause before him and stared at the mortal face of David Saeran as he was known to the world of men.

"What mischief does your slumbering mind conjure Lord of Mordor?" Namo asked as he swept his consciousness through the room, trying to discern what force had caused these aberrant phenomena

Saeran opened his eyes and replied.

"No mischief," he replied, "just a lure."

Namo's eyes widened in surprise, "how long have you been conscious?" In truth, the question in his mind was how long had Sauron been conscious and concealing it?

"Longer than you know," Saeran sat up and swung his feet over his hard bed to land on the floor, fully upright. The Valar towered over him as they often did among lesser creatures but Saeran was no longer afraid. What he had done to Melkor ensured he would never be afraid of any Valar again, merely cautious. "You are wondering how I managed it."

As he spoke, the great door slammed shut with a thunderous roar that would not penetrate the depths to give away what was happened. Namo did not know yet but he slipped into a juncture between realities, like the small space between sheets of glass lying face down upon each other. Namo turned to the sound and then faced Sauron, comprehension dawning upon him that he had more to fear than he knew. He prepared himself to fight but his enemy had been waiting a long time for this moment and struck first.

The burst of energy swept him off his feet and slammed him against the wall, hard. Namo who had not been called to do battle in almost a hundred thousand years had forgotten what it was like to engage in such a physical display of force, particularly with one of the Ainur. The power that assaulted him was unbelievable. Namo had not felt the like since Manwe had led the others to Arda in the War of the Wrath. Sauron was Ainur but he was not Valar, he should not have this kind of strength.

Namo was reeling from the attack and gripped with confusion. He was probably trying to discern where all this power had come from, Saeran thought as he approached the Valar god of the Underworld. "You Valar were always so gullible," he shook his head in disgust as he began to invoke the spell that had been carefully prepared for the purpose. "You let Melkor roam loose in Valinor even after all the destruction he caused in Arda, gave him free reign to bring Ungoliant into this land and steal the Simarils. Always with you it is half measures that result in a recurrence of the same problem. I am happy to say that I will not be so foolish."

Namo looked up at him and saw that Sauron was chanting and prepared to act when suddenly, he found he could not move. His form remained frozen in place. The cold that had been travelling through his body was almost complete now. Namo had thought it was because of the ice but now it was dawning on him that there was more at work here then he possibly knew. He prepared to exert himself to break free of these invisible bonds but he could not. Frustrated, he tried to change to shape, to turn himself into something less tangible when the cold vapors that had been swirling around the room rushed around him to keep him in place. 

"What have you done?"

"Just a minor spell of binding," Saeran said unsurprised by what was occurring since it was by his design. "You may have forgotten but I was also called the Necromancer in my time. For years, I collected all these wonderful spells to use against the Valar should they ever turn their attention to me but I never had the power to make any of it possible. I lived in fear that the Valar would come seek me out and deal retribution as you had done to Melkor. I even plotted my escape from the void, an escape it appeared served my former master well. However, things have changed now. I more than I ever was and this time, I do have the power to ensure that none of you interfere with my plans."

"Your conjuring may prevent me for stopping you but you do not have any power over all of us combined," Namo hissed at he felt the ice forming over his body, trapping him. "Manwe will smash you into nothingness!"

"He is welcomed to try," Saeran smiled as he stood back and sensed that Namo was using the last of his strength, not yet frozen by his spell of binding to call Vaire who was even now looking up from her latest tapestry in concern. Her first impulse would be to come to her husband's aide. While she made her way down here, Saeran would be busy elsewhere. He looked at Namo and saw the ice travelling up the Valar lord's neck, his body like a crude statue. He was struggling but the ice was symbolic of a spell that he could not break, one that Saeran had fashioned specifically for the Valar. Like the spell that held Melkor in place, this one used the Valars' own power to create their own prison.

"Goodbye my Lord Namo," Saeran said with a smile as he proceeded out of the room. "I thank you for your hospitality and hope that we meet under better circumstances Now if you excuse me," he met the Valar lord's eyes with a glint of menace, "your lady and I have business to attend."

"NO!" Namo struggled as the ice encased his lips and the word because frozen like the rest of him would soon be.

************

"Look Sam!" Fred Bailey giggled as she pointed out another wriggling jellyfish struggling against the surf to return to the sea. 

"You're not supposed to touch it!" Sam said reproachfully as he saw Fred and Pip kneeling next to the creature, trying to resist the urge to prod the thing as it lay against the sandy ground. 

"Don't be such a spoilsport Sammie," Pip returned as he stuck his finger at the jellyfish and touched it experimentally. The creature squirmed a little at the boy's touch and tried desperately to move away, shuddering forward with what little musculature that afforded it mobility. 

"I'm telling mum," Sam replied pulling his hand away before he got stung or worse. "You know what she said."

"You wouldn't," Pip looked at him with distaste and then glanced at the shore where mum and Aunt Tory was sitting around talking while they played.

"If you get stung I'll be in trouble," Sam insisted then turned to Fred and explained, "big brothers always do."

"It's okay Pip," Fred smiled, having played mediator to both brothers numerous times since her arrival here. "I don't think it likes us touching it anyway."

Fred saw Sam flashing her a grateful smile and she knew that their relationship was almost as close to the one he shared with Pip. Their friendship was closer than blood. It was powerful stuff that she did not understand but relied upon. She knew that no matter what happened, what darkness came upon them, he would be at her side because that's how it was supposed to be. She did not always understand its power but she knew it to be the truth. Sometimes, she saw the adults in her life understood this as well, particularly Gandalf and Legolas. Since his arrival in Valinor, they were near inseparable and it was no coincidence that Sam's home was built near hers.

Bryan seemed very happy to have his brother and Fred liked Aunt Miranda very much. When she grew up, she wanted to be just like Sam's mum who was very brave and was afraid of nothing. She was also plenty fun and loved spending time with all three. It was a different kind of love than the one she had for Tory who was like her mum. Tory liked to hug and when Fred woke up frightened in the night, Tory would hold her until she went to sleep and make her hot chocolate. Tory wasn't like her mum but she helped Fred not miss her as much. 

"Come on Pip," Fred took the younger boy by the hand and led him away from the jellyfish. "We can collect seashells."

"Okay," Pip nodded, thinking Fred to be terribly wonderful even if she was a girl. He liked her eyes. They looked like the sapphire ocean beyond the white shore. "Come on Sam!" He beckoned his brother. 

  
Sam followed them as Fred and Pip ran along the shore, noticing the gaze of their mother following their movement. Miranda waved at him and Sam beamed happily at his mother, liking the way the sunshine made her golden hair glitter. It was a beautiful day with the sun shining high in the sky. In the distant horizon he could see peaks of Tol Eressea and the islands beyond it. It never rained in this place, not that Sam knew anyway. Everyday it was shining and bright, where the air smelt sweet and there were plenty of places to run and play.

  
Folk here were nicer too, not like the world they used to know. While he had found it easier to believe in elves, Sam was rather surprised by how mum and dad seemed to grasp this concept without too much difficulty. Adults were not known for their belief in such things and yet dad seemed to get along famously with Elladan and Uncle Bryan was always going off somewhere with Aaron and Legolas. However, it was Gandalf who was the children's favorite who often came to visit them with stories of dragons and great adventures, some that even seemed familiar to Sam though he was not sure why. Gandalf sometimes took them on long walks to the beach and explained to them true things which adults had difficulty expressing. 

Suddenly, he saw Fred stopping in mid run. 

For reasons, he could not understand, he felt a shiver of cold run down his spine as she stood there, the ocean surf swirling around her feet as she stared into nothingness, the wind whipping at her long dark hair. Her brow was knitted in an expression of concern, her lips parted in fear. Sam felt his entire being connected to her then, feeling her anxiety, feeling her fear. He was attuned to her in a way he did not understand but Gandalf had explained to him that this was a true thing he had to believe, that must never be questioned. Sam believed the wizard who knew more about them both then he cared to reveal.

"What is it?"

She did not speak, her eyes sweeping across the landscape, raking over him and Pip, moving past Miranda and Tory to the jagged peaks of the Pelori Mountain Ranges. The wind seemed to pick up speed as she made this journey of observation. Sam looked up and saw clouds being dragged across the sky like a dark curtain. Shadows began to appear all across the landscape and there was a noticeable shift in the weather. An ill wind seemed to have swept across the land, dragging with it a sense of ominous foreboding. The sea began to churn and suddenly the crystal blue water began to diminish in its brilliance.

"What's happening?" He hurried to her as the wind began to blow a gale, whistling loudly in their ears as she saw leaves and trees beginning to sway and bend. 

"He's awake," she looked at him with fear. "He's awake!"

"He is?" Sam's blood ran cold. He knew who she was speaking of. She had told him when they had first met.

"Yes," she nodded and grabbed Pip's hand. "Come on!" She started running towards Miranda and Tory.

Sam followed Fred as she hurried towards the two women who were looking about in confusion, wondering what had happened to the bright, sunny day that was now tortured into such desolation. 

Fred could hear him. She did not know how it was possible but she could feel him.

  
_He was chanting words she did not understand, words laced with cruelty and malice. They sounded like curses not words and he continued to speak them, increasing in tempo as he continued his recital. She did not know where he was but Fred was certain he was close and he was unleashed from his prison. There was power in him too, power that was different than before. The words continued to echo in her head and as they grew louder, the sun became dim in the sky as more and more clouds rolled over the land._

"What's happening?" Miranda asked when the children reached her.

"I don't know," Tory answered, looking around with growing apprehension. In all the time she had been in Valinor, she had never seen the weather change so dramatically. In fact, she had never seen a day on this island that was anything but idyllic. Now it looked as if it were about to storm and not just storm if the intensity of the wind increased but hurricane. 

__

His words were almost frenzied now and the clouds of grey covered all the sky and then sun disappeared entirely. A dark shadow fell upon them all as the sea became choppy and waves began to hurl themselves against the shore like tormented spirits. The wind roared in their eyes, chasing away the warmth of the sun and allowing the cold to sweep mercilessly over them. Its intensity was such that none were left effected and everyone was soon clutching themselves for heat. With this new peril, the words suddenly died down and yet the desolation remained. 

"Oh no," Fred suddenly exclaimed as she looked at the distance and realised what had happened, "look" she sad in a hushed voice. All of them turned to where her terrified gaze was staring and knew instantly what was wrong, why suddenly Valinor was plunged into this darkness. 

Mount Taniquetil, the home of Manwe, Varda and all the Valar for as long as Valinor had stood, was gone.

**BACK TO MAIN PAGE**


	3. Chapter Two

****

Chapter Two

The Curtain Torn

Sauron, former lord of Mordor had come to a surprising revelation as he stood before the Forbidden Vaults were none may enter save Lord of the Underworld, he learnt that he knew nothing of power. All his long existence he had sought it without any inclination of what true power was. All he had experienced before his moment were scraps thrown from a table he was never allowed to reach. Scrabbling for morsels he thought would sate his belly but in truth he knew nothing of true essence of what he hungered. 

Now he knew. Now he had feasted at the table and had cast all others away. The spell he had performed ensured that they were trapped in the very realm they had used to keep the elves safe and protected. For the Valar, nothing had changed. They were still in the Undying Lands, kept form the sight of men and separated from the savagery of Arda. Their charges however, were not as fortunate. For first time in a hundred thousand years, elves breathed the same air as men and looked upon the same stars. It would not be long before orbital satellites and global positioning devices completely alien to the Eldar located the island that had appeared from nowhere 

Welcome to the 21st century.

This David Saeran thought with a cruel smile as he took the next stop for his glorious plan. He stood before the Forbidden Vaults, the place prepared for the souls of those whom even Eru would not receive in death. This was the final rewards of the dragons and the balrogs, the dark things who had been created by Melkor in the great blackness before either the lamps or the great trees. When the world covered in darkness and the foul things of the earth had ruled like gods. Behind these doors were the great spiders, the krakens and shapeshifters. Millions of dark souls waiting rebirth, waiting to be lead out into the unsuspecting world. 

Finally, Sauron Lord of Mordor, reborn in the mortal shell of David Saeran, would have the war he always wished.

The great doors had never been open and yet he could feel them, scratching at the wood, tugging at the locks. He could see the door shuddering had not been dispatched, it was likely that they would never escape. However, the Valar did not know to fight, not really. They relied on minions to wage their wars and even when they fought, they fought in the old way and Sauron had never fought fair. He did not fight to win. He fought to kill and that was an advantage his pure hearted betters never understood. They did not have it in them to be so bloodthirsty and because of that, he would win. 

Standing before the doors, he relished the hatred within and let him nourish him. Strange how the darker emotion was the easiest from to which to feed. He let their malice course through his veins, felt their long buried need for vengeance and knew that their time had come. The world was going to know what hell truly was by the time he was done with it. Using a scant exertion of power, the doors began to move, pushing inwards, against the edge that held it place. He focussed, forcing it to part before him, until the hinges began to bend and the strain of metal groaned lethargically in the dark corridor, far away from the light. 

"Yield," he said confidently as the doors forced forward until the great surface became fissured as wood splinter and the cracks of eerie amber light begin to pierce through the widening gaps. A smell that could only be described as all things dying and rotten, meandered wetly through the cold, chilling air. He took a deep breath of this and felt himself further strengthened by the stench that gave his dark soul further sustenance. 

With a earth-shattering roar, the doors tore themselves apart, splinters rained across his skin, fragments of wood covered the ground and as the dust settled, Saeran smiled, aware that the Forbidden Vault now lay open to him. The great locks and chains were now unruly piles at his feet, a testament to the freedom that was he was enjoying and that he would soon dispense to those who had been incarcerated behind these doors for so many ages. Despite all their efforts to escape, he could sense their astonishment that the Vault was at last opened to them.

He stepped forward past the dark done steps and stood among the wreckage of the doors, hearing the rumble of confusion, the cacophony of voices from all manner of fel beasts that lay within, waiting for him to address who he was. They knew him of course, they knew his essence and though he could sense their confusion for they knew not if he was Sauron or Morgoth, they did not mistake his power and the shadow world in which he walked. He walked only a few feet before he found himself at the edge of a floor, looking down into a pit of amber light. Tall shadows loomed across the craggy rock, bodies crammed together in uncomfortable residence. Plump round bodies with too many legs attacked skittered across the rock floor, pacing their cage in impatience. Balrogs had stirred, their ash grey hide was beginning to cackle with heat, as if the mere promise of freedom had rekindled the fire of their hatred.

The worms and the dragons, the watchers and the balrogs, the spiders and the wolves waited in silence, waiting for him for to speak, an eternity of torment, caged together for only each other as sport, unable to die in this place. Unable to end as it was the right of all things who lived and breathed. Abandoned by the Valar and forgotten by Eru, these were the children of Morgoth, now his army of darkness. 

"This time," he said to them all, his voice like a ill wind that became words they all could understand even if the language of Mordor was as forgotten as the kingdom itself. The Black Speech was timeless as the night. "This time we will rule. We will be a scourge that not even Iluvutar will stop. We will sweep a tide of blood and fire over this Arda and we destroy everything in sight. We will let none live that we can destroy. For what they have done to us, for how they have chained us, they will pay! Our minion over this world resumes at this hour. We will take back ARDA!" 

The bellow of triumph could be heard across the world. In the shield volcanoes of Hawaii, the Kilauea, the Mauna Loa and the Loihi Seamount rumbled to life, spewing ash and lava into the air, until a cloud of black could be seen over the pristine islands. In Fiji the wind shifted, turning from a breeze into a gale that soon evolved into a tempest that signaled the coming of darkness. From deep beneath the waters of Loch Ness, in the caverns that many suspected was home to some dinosaur, the watcher hidden for ages, stirred to life. Beneath the ruins of what was once Mordor, the hatchlings of Uruk Hai thousands began to awake.

Deep within the earth, far beyond the reach of all human civilizations, others listened and heard the call of evil that was spreading through Arda above like a growing malignancy. They heard the denizen of the dark awaken in their secret places, stirred by the call of the shadow army emanating from the Mandos' open gates. Like all the others who were awakened from their ages long slumber, they too began to arm for war.

**********

It was the elves who felt it first.

Something pierced their skin far deeper than the points of a thousand blades the moment the sun disappeared from the skies behind a curtain of cloud. The cumulous that hid the blue sky from the lands of Valinor was so thick in its consistency that the darkness fell upon the land like shadow creatures claiming their domain. The wind swept across the island following the sudden shift in weather, a hard bitter wind that was laced with cold and sent a shudder through all who stood in its path. It made leaves curl in brittleness, trees twist and bend beneath the power of the gale force winds and turned a land seeming like paradise into a place of ominous desolation.

Aaron saw Legolas pale as they stood out in the open garden outside his house to resume sword practice again. The elf seemed short of breath, as if a terrible malaise had overcome him. His eyes filled with fear and for Aaron who rarely saw Legolas off balance, this was somewhat rather unnerving. He dropped his weapon, his brow furrowing as he stood there, overcome by some inner sense that Aaron did not possess, an expression of grave concern on his face. His eyes were searching, as if he were trying to discern the source of this disquiet without much success.

"Something has happened," Legolas said in an uneasy voice.

"Yeah," Aaron nodded, needing only to witness the look on Legolas' face and not the dramatic change in weather around them, to know this for a fact. "What's going on?"

"I do not know," Legolas answered, "I feel empty and cold as if something had swooped into my breast and stolen away the heart from me."

From an elf, this was not a good description of things.

"Has the weather ever changed like this before?" Aaron asked as he watched the stormy cloud, heavy with rain. Small pellets of water were starting to make themselves felt as he looked up into the tempestuous sky.

"Never," Legolas shook his head and suddenly stopped short. "By Valar!" He exclaimed.

For a moment Aaron thought the shock might actually have caused Legolas to swoon. The elf stared ahead, his face contorting in utter horror and as Aaron followed his gaze, understood instantly the reason for his terrible shock.

"Where is the mountain?" Aaron exclaimed when he saw the peak of Taniquetil, the home of the Valar gone. Where it had been standing there was only grey clouds and its disappearance was like the heart of this land had been stolen away. He was not an elf but seeing it gone, knowing that the Great Music that originated from it would be absent the next day left a feeling of dread. 

"It is gone," Legolas stammered.

"How the hell can a goddamn mountain disappear!" Aaron demanded, his hand wrapped around Legolas who did not appear steady on his feet.

"I do not know," Legolas said breathlessly, "but there is dark evil in this land," he raised his eyes to meet Aaron. "I can feel it. It is here and it powerful."

"How could that be?" Aaron asked, unable to believe that anything was capable of harming them here. For a hundred thousand years, this land and the gods who dwelt in it had protected the elves from all that could threaten them. It was as near as paradise as one could imagine. Since arriving at its shores, he could not imagine living anywhere else. The woman he loved was here, the friends he had made and the family that was coming to being was here. To think it under threat, fired Aaron's fears almost as much as Legolas'.

"I do not understand but we must ride to Lorien with all haste," Legolas retorted, "we must find Gandalf and learnt what it is that has happened." The elf's fear was waning, giving way to give determination. Aaron saw his jaw set as he decided upon his course. 

"Wait," Aaron stopped him as he stared walking toward his horse. "We should find the women first and make sure there are safe," he looked at the elf. "If there's danger, we should make sure the people care about are alright."

"Of course," Legolas nodded, wondering what could have been in his thoughts to have forgotten about Ariel and her safety. He had already lost her once, he could not bear if any harm came to her whilst he was on his quest to find Gandalf.

"We should also get to the others," Aaron suggested, referring to Bryan and Tory who did not live far from here. With the seemingly growing number of humans who were arriving in Valinor, they had congregated together mostly because it was easier to accustom oneself to life in Valinor with one's friends' close by. Perhaps it was the human need to form communities, Aaron had thought at the time. In any case, they were all fairly near to each other. 

Suddenly, they heard a loud roar and both turned sharply to the east. Through the heavy rain clouds, they saw something terrible rising form behind the mountains, a surge of flame rising into the air, burning a hole through the clouds. It seemed profane to see such darkness in Valinor but there it was stretching towards the heavens malevolently, casting a sinister shadow over the island. Black specks littered the column of crimson. The tiny specks began to move of their own accord, like flies swarming the carcass of some dead beast and the sound that tore through the air was one that Legolas recognized immediately. He had not heard it more in more than a hundred thousand years but he remembered the bellow of Smaug in the last days of its life.

"We must find the others now," Legolas breaking his gaze away from it, his voice low. "We must go now!"

"What is it?" Aaron asked, lacking Legolas' eyesight to see what was coming. 

"Do not argue with me," he said hastily as he hurried to the horses. "We must go NOW!" 

He broke into a run as Legolas did the same, crossing the ground quickly as the terrible roar began to make the ground quake. He looked over his shoulder and saw the swarm spreading across the island though the were still too far away to make out However, he did not need to see them up close to know that it was terrible whatever they were. The look of fear on Legolas' face spoke more eloquently than anything he could see with his own eyes.

They mounted the horses that were skittish and uneasy where they remained in their stables. Since arriving on Valinor, Aaron had learned to ride and was slightly chagrined by how easily Eve took to it. Legolas as always, had taught him how to ride and Aaron was proud to say that after a few lessons had become proficient enough to be comfortable on the animals. These days, he was actually quite a good rider although he missed his Jaguar still. The car was most likely sitting in storage somewhere or impounded by FBI who thought it would give them some clue as to his whereabouts since he was the prime suspect in the destruction of the Malcolm Building.

Galloping furiously away from the house, they made a slight change of plan, choosing to go to Bryan's first because there was more going on than Legolas would tell him and the elf seemed to think there was safety in numbers. Legolas' pace on the horse he had named Arod was unrelenting and Aaron was grateful that he was a proficient rider for he would not have been able to keep up. Of course, none of the humans could ride horses the way Eric could. For some reason or another, the newsman who used to be Eomer of Rohan was the best horseman of them all. Legolas had declared what else could they expect from the King of the Riddermark.

The sound grew louder and the swarm was spread across Valinor now, a dark cancer growing in malignancy as it closed the distance. Suddenly, Aaron began to hear things, screams and cries of terror; the sound clenched his heart. Rain had begun to pelt down from the weeping sky, heavy drops of it that splattered against the skin and covered the land in a further mist of gray. The wind had picked up and it was a sharp, icy wind. He could see his breath escape him in vapors as he panted on the heavy ride. It reminded him of winters in New York but far colder than that. 

Anduril sat in its scabbard in the saddle of his horse and Aaron did not know why but seeing the weapon gave him comfort somehow. He wondered if this was how Aragorn had felt charging into battle, knowing that the weapon, the symbol of his kingship would be at his side. It was strange to feel such affection for a thing but ever since it had come into his keeping, it felt as if the gears of some cosmic wheel had started to shift. Galadriel said that it was a sign that all things were in readiness though the lady could be damned cryptic when she wished to be.

There was panic in Valinor, Aaron discovered. He could see it in Legolas' eyes and he could tell by the screams that he was hearing as the dark swarm swooped into the cities at long last. Suddenly he heard a great gusting sound, like a gale had found them and was pursuing them relentlessly. His horse Strider (Elladan and Elrohir's idea of a joke when they had made a gift of the animal), was tensing beneath him and rearing its elongated head uneasily. The same discourse was affecting Legolas' mount to and as Aaron looked over his shoulder he could see why. 

The creature skin was gray. Its pallor was of something that had been rotting for a long time. Its skin looked flaky and brittle, despite the rain that had slicked its form. Its eyes were white, there were no irises and through its partly parted mouth, he saw teeth, long, yellow teeth, its breath escaping in snorts. The wings flapped like that of a birds but looked more like a bats, web like and angular. It was a vision that Dante himself could have imagine, a painting Dali would have drawn to depict the horrific and bizarre. However, there was no denying what it was even if Aaron's mind struggled to believe it. 

A dragon.

It was a fucking dragon. It was almost as big as a house and it had set its sights on them. 

"IS THAT WHAT I THINK IT IS!" Aaron shouted as he dug his heels into Strider's flanks, trying to force the stallion to increase its speed though Aaron had a feeling Strider knew exactly what was behind them long before he did.

"RIDE!" Legolas retorted. "RIDE OR THE URLOKI WILL KILL US BOTH!" 

Aaron was not about to argue with that order nor did he missed the half-strangled terror that Legolas was trying to hide from his voice. Strider's gallop filled his world as he leaned forward in the saddle to brace himself for the ride of their lives. It was no easy feat outdistancing a creature that could fly and the first bellow from the dragon was followed by a blast of fire. A ball of flame surged past him, causing the air to sizzle when rain made contact with fire. It landed on a bush and immediately consumed it with flame.

They could see Bryan's house in the distance and knew that it had been a bad choice coming here because now it gave the dragon more than two targets. Bryan however, did have weapons a little more effective than a sword and Aaron hoped that would be enough to stop the creature behind them. Another heated blast ignited a tree and suddenly their path was becoming flanked by fire. As they neared the house, the creature let out another angry roar, fire following the cry. He could feel the heat surging past his skin, could feel its intensity prickling his flesh, a contrasting sensation against the cold.

Whether it was the glow of amber from the blazing trees, the eerie flapping of great wings or simply the tempest that had suddenly descended upon Valinor without warning, Aaron saw Bryan emerging from his house by the sea. The tall Englishman had only a moment to react before he was running back into the house. Aaron had no idea what it was Bryan thought he could do against the beast that was following them but he knew without hesitation that Bryan Miller was incapable of abandoning anyone without a fight. The man simply did not have it in him to turn tail and run. 

  
Bryan emerged as Aaron and Legolas closed in on the house, practically falling from the saddle as they neared he Englishman. The horses bolted almost immediately, terrified by what was following them so closely. 

  
"Get in the bloody cellar!" Bryan shouted as he saw the creature flying towards them, its great wings flapping almost gracefully as flames billowed out of his open mouth.

"You cannot fight this beast!" Legolas returned sharply, aware that Bryan's carrying of his modern weapons could only mean one thing. 

  
"What do you suggest we do?" Bryan retorted as he saw the thing swooping in. For a moment, he was reminded of a fighter jet about to make a strafing run. 

"RUN!" Legolas shouted. "You're weapons will not penetrate its hide! Its is virtually invulnerable!" 

"Virtually means not entirely," Bryan retorted as he allowed himself to be pulled back towards the house. The others were already in the cellar, Elrohir, knowing what it was that they faced had wisely ordered Eric and Jason to take cover, though how much shelter that would provide was problematic. "There has to be some way."

"There is but you have to get underneath the goddamn thing!" Aaron shouted. "I read about these dragons. Only their underbelly is vulnerable!"

"Underbelly?" Bryan looked at him sharply.

Aaron saw the gears working in his head, "don't even think about it."

"Come on," Bryan looked at him with a grin and started towards the dragon that was turning the landscape around them into an inferno. "You don't want to live forever do you!"

Cocking the L85A1 rifle in his hand, Bryan saw the approaching dragon and considered quickly how to take his shot. During the journey to Valinor with David Saeran on board the Anemone, because it had simply not in his vocabulary to travel without a weapon of any kind. Even though the former lord of Mordor had been trapped in his comatose body for the entirety of the voyage, Bryan had been unwilling to take any chances. He ensured that both he and Eve had been supplied with a formidable cache of weapons in case Saeran had chosen to awake while they were travelling to Valinor. Considering what a Herculean effort it had taken to put Saeran in this position, no one argued with his reasoning.

"You're fucking insane!" Aaron shouted. "It will kill us before you can squeeze off a round!" Aaron shouted back as the flames drew terrifying close. Around them the calm of the area looked like a picture of hell. There wasn't much that was not ignited in flame. If he had deigned to look he would have seen the cities of Valinor were in similar state. Valinor was under the flame, not just here but everywhere, from Aqualonde to Tirion to Tol Eressea. It burned amidst the sudden shift in weather, winds brittle and cold scorched the land in an icy burn. The fires battled the spittle rain, often evaporating the moisture before it could do battle with the flames.

"No it won't," Bryan said throwing him a look, "and it doesn't matter anyway. That bloody thing will burn the house around us."

"You do not know if your bullets will hurt it!" Legolas protested as the former M16, SAS trained agent took a stance and aimed. Aaron and Legolas should have run but like the bystanders at an accident, remained rooted to the spot. Flames had ignited the trees around the house and the sky was alive with amber from the radiating glow of fire. 

Legolas' word hung in the smoke filled, pregnant with ominous danger as the dragon, mouth breathed in flame, and its wings spanned across the sky swooped towards the human standing in almost bold defiance of its power. Bryan could feel the heat diminishing before him in balls of flame, each drawing closer with each breath. Legolas and Aaron remained at his side even though he knew they were afraid and they had good reason to be. He was being a damned cocky fool and he knew but Bryan Miller knew no other way to be. 

"Yes but neither does it," Bryan said a split second before he opened fire. 

As those who have never heard a gunfire before and experienced it for the first time can safely attest, there is no sound quite like it. On television it is dulled, treated and altered for the viewing audience, loud enough to sound threatening when an unnamed hero sails through a barrage of them. The reality of it for those unfortunate enough to be caught in such circumstances, is quite different. On the battlefield men come undone by the sound of exploding artillery, bursting about their ears in a confusing cadence surrounded by a thickening smoke that is more effective at causing fear than the corpses around them. Bryan counted on this effect upon the creature that was bearing down on him.

The sound of gunfire rose over the cackling of flame and the creature reared, momentarily startled by the unfamiliar noise. Its great saurian neck lifting high, its fiery breath creating balls of flame over is massive head. And that instant, it halted in mid air as its belly was exposed. Wasting no time, Bryan re-aimed and fired once more. This time, his shots were not to cause confusion but to kill. The barrage tore through the beast's gray flesh, causing spurts of brackish dark fluid to spray through the air from each bullet hole. 

The creature uttered a powerful roar of pain, its neck raised even higher as it reared even further, trying to retreat from the white hot projectiles that were tearing through its most vulnerable flesh. It great wings flapped faster, fluttering almost in a frantic effort to escape. It hurled a gust of flame at the three who had caused it so much pain. Legolas whose reflexes were far swifter than his human comrades, dragged both men to the dirt as the flames blew past them, all the while hearing the powerful screeching about their ears. A stench gagged all three, like rotten eggs that Bryan realized was sulfur. 

  
"It's leaving!" Aaron exclaimed as he saw the dragon withdraw into the darkness.

  
"No," Bryan shook his head getting to his feet quickly. "Its been surprised, that's all."

"It will return as soon as it discovers it is not injured terribly," Legolas answered, "the urloki are cunning. They are not merely mindless beasts like watchers or trolls. These are dragons."

"What in the hell is going on?" Aaron demanded, asking the question. 

"Don't you recognize this?" Bryan said as he started striding towards the house.

"What do you mean?" The New Yorker asked as the dragon's departure had ceased the billowing waves of heat and allowed the rain to temporarily gain ascendance once more. He could feel moisture and wind blowing at him. The icy wind was a stark contrast to the sharp cold.

"This is what it looked like before we sailed through the barrier," Bryan retorted jogging into the house to get the others. He had ordered Elrohir, Jason and Eric to stay put incase his gambit did not work. 

"Wait a minute," Aaron paused as the realization dawned on him. "Are you saying...?"

"We are in Arda," Legolas exclaimed, verbalizing it far sooner than Aaron was able. "We no longer exist in the Undying Lands. That is why the home of Manwe and Varda can no longer seen. It is not the mountain that is gone, it is us that has moved."

"Jesus Christ," Aaron hissed as they entered the familiar surroundings of Bryan's home. "We're probably somewhere close to the Arctic Circle. It would explain why it's so damned cold."

"It worse than that," Bryan sighed, "we're going to be open to global positioning and satellites. If the rest of the world doesn't know about this island, it won't take them long to find out. It's not going to take them long to want to investigate a new island just appearing on the map."

"Your people will come here," Legolas shuddered. "They will find us."

"Yes," Bryan nodded grimly, "they will."

"We've got to get to the women," Aaron declared. "We should try to stick together until we can work out what's going on."

"Good idea," Bryan agreed, aware that they seemed to be at their best when they were together. "Eric, Jason, Elrohir! Its safe!" 

"Where's Tory and Fred?" Aaron asked. 

"They were at the beach with Miranda and the kids," Bryan answered. "Even if we've shifted position and left the Undying lands, it doesn't explain where that thing came from. It was a dragon wasn't it?"

  
"Yes," Legolas nodded, as he saw the three men emerging from the basement of the house. "Elrohir, there are urloki in Valinor."

  
"Urloki!" Elrohir exclaimed. "Dragons? They have not existed since the Third Age."

"There were fucking dragons out there?" Eric stared at them in astonishment.

"Jesus, look outside," Jason said glancing at the window at the change in weather and the scenery breathed in flame. It was almost like the war zones they had seen during their careers as news journalists.

"Look does it really blood matter?" Bryan replied, more concerned about Tory and Fred out there alone and unprotected. He strode towards his weapons chest and proceeded to retrieve every gun he could find. "Where's Eve and Ariel?" He looked to Legolas. 

  
"They're at the coast too," Aaron answered. "On the Anemone."

"Okay, here's the plan," Bryan said taking charge as usual and no one saw any reason to correct him. "We're riding out of here while we can. That dragon is going to come back once its worked out that the bullets don't hurt it as much as it makes noise. We head to the coast and get the women and decide what to do."

"We go to Tirion," Elrohir responded. "We got to find my father and my grandmother. If there are any answers as to how this has come about, they will know it."

"I don't know about that," Eric stared out the window at the fires burning briskly across Valinor and at the woods outside the house. If it were not for the fact that the forest thinned a hundred yards into plain open ground, this house too would be razed to the ground. "If this happened without the Valar having any inkling of it then the shit's hit the fan and there are no answers."

"Let's try and keep a little bit of optimism here," Bryan cast the jaded reporter a look. "We have a plan let's stick to it. We find Tory and the women first and work out the rest as we go."

It was a sound plan as any and considering the peril that was running rife through the island, a prudent one.

***********

There was chaos in the streets of Tirion. 

Frank and Elrohir had been in each other's company when the world suddenly turned to madness. Through the great library, the mood was one of shock and fear as everyone tried to discern what had happened. Outside the window, it was as if the gates of the shadow world were flung open and all the fell creatures within had been unleashed upon the innocent. The beautiful city of crystal and pearl was under siege, tongues of flames snaking up pristine white columns. In the streets, screams could be heard as well as far more frightening sound of things dark and menacing. Bellowing howls and piercing screeches filled the night. 

Frank and Elladan emerged from the library into this insanity, their eyes sweeping across the main walk of Tirion with an expression of growing horror. Dark shapes were perched on top of tower walls, appearing like vultures waiting for the feeding on a battlefield. They stared at the terrified masses in malevolent watchfulness, opening their massive jaws to hurl fire into the crowds below. Elsewhere, things that growled and bit tore across the ground, their massive fur covered bodies ripping with powerful musculature as they sought out fresh prey. There was a feeding frenzy taking place before them and the two beings could only stare in absolute horror at the carnage. 

"What in God's name happened?" Frank managed to ask.

"There is no time to ponder the question," Elladan said grabbing him by the shoulder and dragging Frank across the steps of the great repository of books, "we must find my father and grandmother. They will know what is to be done."

Elladan's voice was tense and it was not because of everything that was happening around them or the fact that Mount Taniquetil had disappeared. It was that they appeared to be besieged by everything from urloki to wargs and he had no weapon on his person. There was foul craft sweeping through Valinor and its source was not only unknown but the Valar had done nothing to cede its progress. Elladan could not imagine that Manwe would allow this to destruction to sweep through his sacred lands, unless they were powerless to prevent it. The possibility frightened him almost as much as the knowledge that their presence was absent somehow, that everything that was happening to Valinor was due to this loss.

"I have to find Miranda and the kids!" Frank said filled with thoughts about his family alone in all this horror. 

"Your wife is more than capable of caring for Sam and Pip, she will keep them safe until we can reach them," Elladan said brusquely, more focussed on getting them to safety at the moment. He saw a group of elves releasing a barrage of arrows at the warg that was tearing one of their own apart, only to spur the action of a winged beast that swooped down and scattered the group with a blast of its fiery breathe. "We need weapons," he said hurrying down a path, "or else we'll never make it to my father's alive."

Frank could not disagree as he kept pace with the elves. It seemed profoundly obscene that the city of Tirion should appear like this. During the last six months, he had become accustomed to the pristine beauty of this land. To see it like this, being raped by creatures beyond comprehension, its skies black with smoke and dark cloud, wind whistling through the high towers that was braced with cold and uneven rain, made him sick to his stomach. For the first time in millennia, the elves were under threat and judging by their efforts to cope with the rising tide of evil consuming their land, were struggling to regain their warring spirit to cope with this surprise attack.

They had reached a turn when suddenly, the ground rumbled beneath them. It felt like an earthquake except that it was rhythmic and it approached from a distance. Whatever was coming their way, Frank decided then, was bad. Judging by the ashen look on Elladan's face, there was good reason to fear. 

"What is it?" Frank demanded as they looked down the path from which this danger seemed to be coming.

"RUN!" Elladan almost ripped his arm out of his socket as the elf sprinted forward dragging Frank with him. When Frank heard the screams that were emanating from that direction, he began to run too. He looked and saw the glow of amber moving down the narrow street, illuminating the way before its source actually arrived.

Frank ran and did not look back. What could frighten Elladan was not something he wanted to meet. They raced down the streets towards the house of Elrond, hopefully still a safe haven from the nightmare taking place around them. Behind them the footsteps, the great quaking footsteps were shaking the world with its approach. Each step was heralded with new screams of horror and death. The fear he felt for Miranda and the kids were almost threatening to overcome his good sense. He knew that it was wise to go to Elrond's home because the lord had horses and with the kids were on the coast, he would never reach them in time on foot.

A thundering sound, like a whip snapping, tore through the air and both man and elf paused long enough to see the side of building burst into flames as part of its wall collapsed. The creature that emerged was towering and huge. It was breathed in amber fire, carrying a lash of fire. With soulless eyes, it scanned the immediate vicinity for new victims and sighted Frank and Elladan. It opened its mouth and a gust of hot air gushed forward as it bellowed.

"What is it?" Frank asked, almost shaking.

"It is a balrog," Elladan said almost as gripped with fear. "I have not seen one in my life. They were servants of Morgoth."

"Can we run?" Frank asked quietly. 

"We can try," Elladan replied and they started moving. As soon as they began running, the beast followed them. 

The sound of thundering feet so loud that they knew without having to look or register the heat from its massive body radiating across their backs, that it was there. The houses flanking them were being set alight from the balrog's swinging whip. The city would be reduced to cinder by daylight if this madness did not end, Frank found himself thinking. He and Elladan would not last that long at this rate. The beast was bearing down them. He could feel the draft when its whips slashed through the air, inches from them. One lash would kill him in a death of fire and agony.

They turned the road and were suddenly faced with a tall golden haired warrior, carrying a long sword, a shield and armored as if he were about to ride to war. Flanking him on either side was a host of archers and elven warriors carrying sharp lances, tall and cruelly elegant in their appearance. 

"Glorifindel!" Elladan said with utmost relief. "There is a balrog behind us."

"I know," the famous elven lord nodded. "There are many roaming through the length and breadth of Valinor on this day. Your father and mother are worried for you. Someone has been sent to the library to hasten your return but I see by your appearance here that he did not reach you."

"We left as soon as all this started," Elladan explained.

"There is not time for talk," Glorifindel ordered. "Go now!" 

The balrog was in sight and closing in. 

"You're not going to fight that thing!" Frank exclaimed, unable to believe anyone ought to try facing that monster armed with anything less than a shoulder launch SAM. A somewhat ironic statement from one who had brought swift end to a Nazgul lord.

Glorifindel met his gaze with a little smile, "I have some experienced in these matters."

**********

On the shores of the Valinor, neither balrogs, wargs nor dragons had found the former Ring Bearer. 

  
However, there could be no denying the carnage that was taking place across the island. They could see its effects on Tol Eressea and in the distance, towards the heart of Valinor, as if it was not enough that Mount Taniquetil had disappear from their sight. A great evil was at foot and it seemed at the center of this maelstrom, the only one who understood just how dire the situation was an seven year old girl who was beginning to understand that this day was a dark day indeed and wept inside for it. 

"We've got to get back to the others," Miranda said as she and Tory prepared the carriage attached to the horses for departure. "We'll go to your place first," the golden haired woman said with a look of focus that Tory had come to learn not to ignore. 

  
In some ways, Miranda's determination was more fierce and powerful than any of them put together. There was strength inside of her that was almost blinding to look at. Tory had seen Bryan look at it in awe and anything that gained his respect so completely was not to be ignored. Therefore when Miranda had offered the suggestion, Tory did not even question it. She obeyed as she would obey Bryan, knowing her limitations and taking faith in Miranda's ability to lead. 

"Okay," Tory nodded quickly, trying the straps of the reins. They had let the horses roam the grass pastures near the beach after arriving, seeing no reason to confine the spirited animals to the carriage for hours. "After that I'm sure he'll be thinking of nothing else but finding Frank." Tory added.

Miranda tried not to think of Frank who was in the city, in the heart of whatever that was taking place on Valinor at the moment. This place was meant to be a sanctuary, a safe haven from the Nazgul and all the evil they had faced. Yet it now appeared that not even the Undying Lands were safe for the walls of heaven were breached the brimstone of hell was burning the host into a cinder. She wiped the rain from her eyes and prayed that Frank had sense enough to stay down. Right now, the most important thing was to get the children to those who could protect them. Not just Bryan but Eric as well.

"Where are the children?" Miranda looked up and saw that Sam, Fred and Pip were gone.

*********

"Why are we hiding?" Pip asked Sam with concerned as they remained confined in the hollow of the tree they had found a close distance away.

"Because Fred says we have to," Sam replied somewhat distracted. Fred had not stopped crying since she had led them here. Inside the cramped confines, she sat with her knees under her chin, hugging them closely because she was crying so hard. There were not small whimpers but loud sobs, heavy and full of hurt. Sam did not understand the cause of it but they broke his heart each of time he heard it. "Sam please, tell me what's wrong. Why are we hiding here?"

"Because he's coming," she finally managed to say through her sobs. 

"Whose coming?" Pip's small voice became even smaller than ever. In his dreams, Pip saw the terrible creature that had held him and Sam captive inside that dark cave beneath the earth. The creature that had no shape but stared at him in his nightmares with crimson eyes. The Witch King had become the embodiment of every terrifying thing he had ever imagined in this world and now Fred's word made filled him with terror that the beast was coming back for him.

"He is," Sam knew precisely who she meant. "The Lord of Mordor."

"Who?"

Fred looked up and met Sam's gaze with tear stained eyes. "He's coming for revenge. He's coming for revenge," she stuttered before breaking into fresh sobs. 

"Then we should get to mum and Tory," Sam replied trying to understand why she was so distraught. Sam could understand that she was afraid and if the truth were known, he did not wish to face the one they all called Sauron but if that were the case, then they should be with mum and Tory, leaving this place before the dark lord found them. Instead Fred was insistent that they came here and hide. Sam could only imagine the terror that his mother must be feeling at finding them gone and felt terribly guilty but Fred's determination overrode that guilt and forced him to go along with this concealment.

Sam put his arm around her and seeing Pip's terrified expression, put a similarly comforting arm around his younger brother. "We won't let him find us," Sam said bravely as only Sam knew how, "we're safe here. We won't find us."

"No," Fred sobbed in anguish. "It's too late." Her blue orbs filling with new tears, "oh Sam, its too late!" Fred's thought fixed upon woman who had been like a mother to her this last year, who had wiped her tears when she wept, who had made her a pink dress with wings on the back like a fairy simply because Fred had said she like them. More than anything, Fred wanted to see Tory again but it was too late. 

"He's here now."

***************

"Fred!" Tory shouted into the air as she and Miranda searched frantically for the children who had suddenly vanished. 

  
"Sam! Pip!" Miranda added her voice their own. "Bloody hell get your arses here!"

"I don't understand," Tory said as they hurried along the shore of the sandy white beach. They had followed footsteps in the sand but the swell of the ocean tide was increasing, along with the rain that did not cease. It was hard to see through the wind and the rain but neither woman was about to stop search for the children. "What could have possessed them to do this! Especially now!"

"I don't know," Miranda replied, trying to read the footprints that were growing increasingly difficult to see thanks to the bad weather and the pooling moisture on the ground that was not just the sea becoming more turbulent. "But if they wandered off on their own I am going to kill them."

Tory knew that the threat meant that Miranda was near panic stations about her lost boys and it was a sentiment that Tory could understand well because with what was happening in Valinor and the disappearance of Mount Taniquetil, this was no time for the children to go wandering about. Yet Tory knew that Fred was not a child that did such things, not after everything they had been through. If she had departed on her own steam then there was good reason for it. 

"Maybe something is here," Tory looked up at Miranda.

Miranda's expression hardened, indicating that she had considered this and wished more than anything that she had a weapon. Unfortunately, she had not even considered that she would need one in Valinor. "You may be right," she said tautly.

"Oh she certainly is," a new voice spoke.

Tory looked up and gasped, staggering a few feet away from him. 

Miranda did not immediately recognised the man who stood before them wearing a long dark coat that hid a turtle neck sweater and dark pants. Piercing blue eyes studied her and chiseled features that sparked a memory. 

"Saeran," Miranda hissed. David Saeran. The man whose return Irina Sadko was willingly to exchange the Silmaril to acquire, for whom the Nazgul had kidnapped her children and nearly murdered Sam. The Lord of Mordor.

Sauron.

"And you are Eowyn," Saeran said approaching her. If the woman was half as intelligent as he had been led to believe, she would know there was no point in running. 

"Miranda," she stiffened seeing the fear in Tory's face. The woman wanted to run but was rooted to the spot, refusing to leave without her. 

"That is a transitory name," Saeran responded, reaching for hand. Predictably, Miranda moved to strike but he caught her wrist easily and forced her palm to face down before bowing to kiss her knuckle gently. "You I have always wanted to meet," he said with an almost charming smile.

"Can't say I've had the pleasure," Miranda snatched her hand away, somewhat shaken by this effort at civility.

"You were always a woman ahead of your time," Saeran replied. "I admired that. The Shield Maiden of Rohan, the White Lady of Ithilien, who rode out as Dernhelm no less to fight at the battle of Pelennor Fields. A remarkable legend. I even like the fact that you felled Morgul in battle, he was always an arrogant snot. I had such trouble controlling him. I dare say that you humbled that ego most efficiently. He was actually tolerable after."

Morgul, the Witch King. That's who he was talking about. "What do you want?" Miranda barked.

"Oh the world in a ball of flames, crusted in iron and bone, preferably human or elf, tamed by my hand," he said nonchalantly. 

"You did this?" Tory asked, staring at the skies and the fires in the distant.

"I may have had a part in it," Saeran said with some relish, "the Valar know nothing about keeping prisoners. Its a terrible failing. In the early ages, they let my former employer have the run of the place after he had been brought back a prisoner. Pure foolishness. Not only did he steal the Silmaril, he got Feanor almightily pissed. Now _he_ was an elf my lady," he looked at Miranda. "You two would have gotten along famously."

"What have you done with my children!" Miranda demanded, certain now that the disappearance of Sam, Pip and Fred was related to this man's...lord's...whatever he was, appearance.

"I have done nothing to the little dears," Saeran replied, his expression darkening. "In fact, I do not see them at all which is rather...curious. I had hoped to say hello to little Fred but I have other matters to attend so I cannot linger here long. As they say, the world awaits and I must go to greet it."

"You're lying!" Tory snapped. "Where are they?"

"And you," Saeran turned his gaze to her for the first time as if he had not noticed Tory before. "You are the little nothing that stepped into this play by chance. You did no great deeds in the past, no songs of valor are sung are about you are they?"

He took a step towards her and suddenly Miranda was struck with a cold fear. "Get away from her!" She rushed him.

Miranda never had the chance to reach Saeran. She took no more than two steps before she was sent flying across the air, landing on the soft sand a few feet away. She landed hard on her shoulder, a cry of pain escaping her at the impact. The wet sand had the strength of concrete and she knew something had popped.

Tory tried to run but he was faster than her and he caught her arm before she could make her escape. "Let me go!" She shouted frantically.

  
"You are beautiful in your way," he said staring into her wide green eyes, her face in his grip. A finger strayed languidly across pale, creamy skin. "I can see many nights where he explores your flesh like Columbus across an unending sea. I see him whispering your name, I see you smiling at him and you are so beautiful when you smile are you not Tory? What love you must give him, what fulfillment you must provide for that hard, warrior spirit. This is the first time for you both, is it not? The first time that fate has allowed you to finally come together. Soul mates through the ages that had never connected until now."

"Please..." Tory started to cry, starting to suspect what he was going to do.

"Don't worry," Saeran's smile stretched. "I am not completely without heart. I won't take his vision of you away."

As she tried to understand what that meant, Saeran twisted sharply. Bone snapped with ease, like elastic breaking. She went limp in his arms almost instantly, without time enough to close her eyes as all that she was ended in that bone crunching break.

  
"NO! TORY!" Miranda wailed from where she was.

Saeran brushed a stray hair from the dead woman's face and allowed her to fall to the ground. Even in her fall, she was graceful and he smiled because she had been truly a lovely creature and to lose her would be far more effective a tool for vengeance than any he could construct by way of craft or dark sorcery.

"You bastard!" Miranda spat, tears streaking down her face. 

Saeran straightened up, looked at her dispassionately and said, "tell the son of Gondor that we are now _even_."

**BACK TO MAIN PAGE**


	4. Chapter Three

****

Chapter Three

The Beginning and the End

The Lord of Mordor was on the move.

After his most satisfying encounter with the former Shield Maiden of Rohan and more specifically, Tory Harding, David Saeran paid his final call before departing Valinor for his destiny in the modern world. There was plenty of time to return to the Undying Lands when his task in Arda was completed. Already his minions were making their way across the oceans. The dragons were leaving the enchanted shores, bound for the world that had not seen its kind in aeons. The balrogs were remaining behind for the moment to reduce the cities of Tirion, Aqualonde and Formenos to ash. They would set alight the woods of Orome, dismantle the mansions of Aule and foul the waters of Lorellin. All that was fine and beautiful in Valinor would end in a blaze of fire that would stretch from one end of the island to the other. To them, he left the elves to dispose with as they wished. 

In the world beyond the Undying Lands, the dark denizens beneath his ruined fortress in Romania, once Barad-dur awakened when the gates of the Forbidden Vault were flung open, stirred and armed for war. Thousands, dormant for so long as they slept in deep slumber, tore from their cocoons like violent birth, covered in slime and blood. They had awakened to the call of their god who was at last coming forth to claim them, to lead them to the victory against the forces of light that bathed the world in its purity. A world that had no place for them. They yearned for victory. They yearned for the spilling of blood that would make Arda theirs at last.

Sarean's army assembled upon the shore of Eldamar, awaiting his leave to begin their long anticipated journey across the great sea. His watchers had already set out, great leviathans of shadow moving through the unspoiled sea, exulting in knowledge they were once more masters of the deep. He saw them move, like great herds of whales, riding a swell of surf through the Bay of Eldamar before reaching open sea. Those who could not swim waited for him to provide their freedom from this island and it came, borne on the water, taken from Alqualonde, the home of the Teleri, great ship builders of Eldar. Blood smeared the hulls of the grey ships, fashioned in the shape of a great swan. The flotilla moved through the heavy rain towards their passengers.

All was needed now was their master to set them on path to the New World.

*********

"Wd have to hurry!" Eve said trying to speak through the pounding rain that had soaked her through and through. Wet hair and clothes were plastered to her skin as the icy temperatures made her shiver so hard, her teeth were chattering.

They had just left the _Anemone_, knowing that dark terror had swept across the land and turned Valinor's beautiful paradise into this dismal landscape of grey sleet and battering rain. Hard winds made the cold more biting and Eve knew that if she did not get shelter soon, she would take ill and with a baby inside her, that was not a risk she was willing to take. However, there was no question about remaining on board either. They needed to return to their husbands and friends to find out what on earth was going. The paradise that was home the elves was now under siege. Like everyone else on the island, she had witnessed the disappearance of Mt Taniquetil and shuddered at the implications of the loss. 

"Look!" Ariel pointed out as they both stood on the wooden dock along which the _Anemone_ was moored. 

Eve followed her gaze and saw what had captured her gaze so completely. In the sky, it looked as if a flock of birds were making their way across the turbulent sky. Great wings flapped with rushes of wind displaced with each beat. She couldn't make it out well with the rain stinging her eyes but glancing at Ariel, Eve saw the elf maiden's face turn ashen with horror. Already her skin was pasty white from the cold, her lips turning a little blue but to see her like this, struck cold fear into Eve's heart. 

"What do you see?" Eve demanded. "What the hell are they?"

"Urloki!" Ariel exclaimed. "They are Urloki!"

"Dragons?" Eve gasped. "Are you saying those things are dragons?" She looked up at the creatures soaring through the clouds, disappearing into the grey sky. "How is that possible?" 

"I do not know," Ariel faced her again, "but that is what they are." Her elven eyesight allowed for no mistake. The beasts were indeed the ancient Urloki of which she had read in many books but had never seen until now. Legolas had told her that the last of the Urloki had been slain some years before the War of the Ring. 

"Come on," Eve said grabbing Ariel's hand, "we have to reach Aaron and the others."

Ariel nodded as she saw the awesome sight of the dragons disappearing beyond the veil of Valinor into the freedom of Arda. She shuddered at the destruction they would cause and felt heartsick that nothing could be done to stop it. In all her life, she had never experienced terror or felt a moment of fear that all was not as it should be. The sensation was new and left her overwhelmed. However, if she thought the sight of Urloki was the end of all the terrible things that were transpiring before her eyes this day, she was terribly wrong. Once again the curse of elven hearing ensured that she heard it first.

"Wait!" She said moving only a few steps off the dock before freezing. 

"What is it now?" Eve looked at her, not liking Ariel's tone. Too much was happening already; too much chaos was running rife through Valinor. In a matter of minutes, paradise had been reverted to a hell where dragons walked the earth and the gods could vanish without explanation. She did not want to imagine what else could be unleashed, what else could be coming without Aaron and the others at her side.

It was a sound of the ocean that Ariel heard first, the gentle lapping of water against the wood. It was a familiar sound, one she had heard all her life. One could not live on an island and not be familiar with the grey ships that came to life under Teleri hands. The ship appeared through the mist, her far seeing eyes saw their familiar shape sailing into the bay. However, as it approached, trailing others with it, Ariel saw that the masters of the helm and shuddered in horror. Orcs covered the deck, barking at each other in their foul tongues as they scurried about the ship like insects infesting rotting wood. They were sailing into the bay, profaning the grey ships by their presence.

  
"Orcs," Ariel replied staring at them as the flotilla past by. "Those are orcs."

"Orcs!" Eve could see the ships now as they drifted across the water beyond the dock, crossing the bay from the direction of Alqualonde. "That's it," she declared. "We're getting out of here while we still can."

"I'm afraid it's a little too late for that."

Oh Jesus.

Eve found herself staring at David Saeran and suddenly it made perfect sense. In fact it was made more than sense. It was the only answer. Who else on Valinor could do this? Who else would hate the elves and all this place represented to unleash this kind of nightmare? He stood before them both on the wooden dock, allowing no visible means of escape. Eve considered briefly the notion of getting past him but abandoned the idea briefly. If he could do all this, she glanced at the raging weather, the dragons disappearing into the grey sky and the armada of stolen ships sailing past her; she had no chance of besting him in any physical battle.

"You?" She looked at the sky as the rain pelted down on all three of them.

"Who else?" he said approaching her. 

"Why?" Eve asked. "Why is this necessary?"

"Who is this?" Ariel demanded, shrinking away from the man as he neared. She could feel the darkness resonating from him. Waves of pure black hatred, assaulting her elven senses. 

"Sauron," Eve shuddered. "This is Sauron."

Ariel shuddered, remembering the body that Olorin had whisked away upon its arrival here. She had not seen the face of the man whose shell contained the dark lord Sauron but now that he was before her, she could sense his malevolence, like a beacon of darkness.

"You may call me David," he said to Eve, his eyes fixed on her and once again Saeran could not believe the resemblance she possessed to another lady, in a different time. Even without the luminescence of elven grace, she was a sight to behold. "We shall be spending a good deal of time together so we should be a little more informal."

Eve turned pale at the thought. "You're fucking insane if you think that we're doing anything together."

"Now is that any way for the Peredhil's daughter to behave?" He looked at her like she was a misbehaving child. "I guess being human has made you unnecessarily coarse. In any case, it is time to go my dear." He extended his hand towards her. 

"Go?" Eve stared at him as if he was mad and shrank back further up the dock. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Don't be tedious Eve," Saeran looked at her with a little sigh. "I really do not have time to waste and we must be going. You will come with me or I will kill that spawn in your belly right this moment and this elven bitch with it."

Eve's hands flew instinctively to her stomach as panicked thoughts about her child and Ariel filled her mind. "You can't!"

"I have done far worse than you can possibly imagine," his eyes grew dark with menace. "Do not make the mistake of thinking that I am at all sympathetic to a brat that sired by Isildur's heir. You are fortunate I do not turn liquefy it inside you where you stand but I do have a purpose that requires your cooperation and so for now it lives."

"Do not listen to him," Ariel found her voice, terrified but unable to simply stand by and let Eve go with this creature because of her as well as her child. "He has always be known as a deceiver! He will hurt you and your child when you no longer serve his needs."

"Do I have another kill another of you today?" He looked at her sharply and suddenly Ariel was flying of the dock.

"ARIEL!" Eve shouted as she saw Ariel slamming into the water away from the dock. Legolas' wife hit the water hard before disappearing under the waves. "Bastard!" She hissed and tried to go the woman's aid but Saeran had her in his grip before she could take one step toward helping Ariel. "You said you wouldn't hurt her!" She spat at him.

"She'll swim if she wants to live badly enough," Saeran replied throwing a glance to the choppy water where the she elf was already struggling to the surface. "As for you my dear, it is time to go."

"What do you want with me?" Eve asked in frustration. She was trapped in the worst way possible and she was terrified.

"I don't know," he answered her with some measure of honestly. Saeran did not know why he wanted to take this human with him. Perhaps it was a memory of the beautiful elf maid who had once sung a song that had moved the hearts of gods with its purity and grace. It was only time that Saeran had ever felt anything resembling a true emotion when he had heard her sing. "Perhaps I am bound still by the memory of the woman whose face you wear, so much that I am unable to wish you reduced to ash with the rest of world."

"I am not her," Eve muttered, unable to believe this was happening. "I am not Undomiel."

"Not you're not," he said pulling her along. "You are Luthien and that will please me greatly in the days to come."

*********

Ariel hit the water hard but thankfully did not lose consciousness. Had the water been still, she had no doubt that the world would have become black and she would have sunk to the bottom of the choppy sea and most likely to her death. Fortunately the turbulent sea lessened the impact of her landing and she plunged into the water, disorientated but not completely incapacitated. She pushed herself to the surface once her limbs stopped aching. Her thoughts a jumble of panic as she forced herself through the water. 

  
Gasping as she broke the surface, Ariel was greeted with more rain on her face. The sky above was grey, filled with the departing Urloki and the combination of harsh wind and big waves made it difficult for her to see. Straining to stay afloat, she tried to cast her gaze towards the dock where Eve and Sauron had been. A deep sense of panic filled her when Ariel couldn't see either and despite the weight of her clothes threatening to pull her into the depth, forced herself to swim. Legolas and Aaron had to know what had happened, had to stop Sauron from whatever dark intent he had planned for Eve and her babe.

He had thrown her far and it took her considerable time to reach the shore. When Ariel reached the surf, she was not only exhausted but also freezing with cold. She had never felt cold like this and she dragged herself across the sand, her body was trembling. Her gown clung to her skin in taut sheets and Ariel hugged her arms close to her body, trying to warm herself but to little avail. Her teeth chattered as she made herself across the sandy shore, her thoughts only of the horses that awaited her, the horses that she and Eve had never reached in time. 

Sauron. 

Ariel thought to herself as she looked at the horizon seeing the grey ships that were now usurped by the dark lord, taken from the Teleri to ferry the sum of his evil army to new lands the Urloki were already flying to reach. Sauron was unleashed form the Halls of Mandos and somehow, he had done all this. She wondered if the others knew that Sauron was at the heart of all this and instinct told her that they did not. In either case, she still had to reach them. 

  
Hurrying back to the dock, she moved as quickly as she could despite her waterlogged clothes and the freezing temperatures. The rain was merciless, beating down against the wood in angry sheets. Ariel paused as she saw the ships that had passed coming to a halt further along the shore. Her heart froze in her chest and felt inordinately grateful that she had so far slipped the notice of the beings waiting to make the crossing within their stolen hulls. On the shore in black clusters, spiders, wargs and beasts that could not cross the ocean were now given passage by the grey ships of the Teleri. 

She could not linger any further, news of this had to be told. Arda had to be warned. 

*********

  
Bryan stood on the beach. 

Around him there was tears. Fred was holding him, she was crying. He was vaguely aware of her arms clinging to him but the rest of him was numb. He heard Miranda sweeping the little girl away, embracing her in that secret way known only to women, whispering things that tried to make it all better. He heard the others speaking but the words did not register, could not register. He felt Legolas' arm on his shoulder, speaking more words that held no meaning, which made no sense, because he was no longer able to listen. 

Aaron was kneeling over her. The psychiatrist was crying. Aaron was holding her cold hand, her hand icy now because of the freezing temperature and because all the life had drained away into nothingness. Heat bled out of a body so fast when the heart stopped, Bryan thought to himself. It was one of those small fragments of information that rose to the top at inopportune moments for which there was no real use. He looked at her, eyes staring at him and seeing nothing, her red hair plastered against creamy skin, skin growing white like ash. 

  
She was gone. 

Just like that. One snap and it was all over. All that she was, all that she could ever be. Simply gone. 

He looked at her, thinking that this morning she had told him to stop leaving teaspoons on the countertop after making coffee for himself and was struck with the absurd thought that he done that very thing before he had left the house. He had forgotten again but he wouldn't hear her rebuke and for some reason that affected him more than the fact that her body was lying in front of him. For the year he had with her, he had never dared to believe he could be that happy. She had been everything he had ever wanted, everything he thought he would ever need and now she was gone.

Just like that.

They had come here first because of the kids and because this was closer. Considering what was happening, it was thought a prudent decision to remain together. There were too many uncertainties in Valinor on this day and safety in numbers may seem outdated but it was still an effective strategy for battle. They had ridden here hard, relieved when they saw that for most part the beach and forest seemed untouched by the pestilence that was tearing the island apart. He had feared the ruin of this paradise, worried that the safety of this place may be gone forever if opened to the outside world and all its cruelties. 

He had thought it would ruin the home in which they had wanted to raise Fred.

Bryan was still thinking that when they found Miranda and heard Fred weeping and in that singular moment, he knew that no matter what happened, even if they saved Valinor and restored it, he had still lost paradise because she was gone. He was standing in the same place where he had first caught sight of her still form on the shore. The only fixed point in the maelstrom of grief and anger that followed as the others discovered her body, heard Miranda's explanation at how Sauron or rather David Saeran had appeared fully restored and took away the only thing that ever truly belonged to Bryan Miller, heart and soul. 

Tory. 

__

Tell the son of Gondor we are now even.

"Bryan," he heard Legolas' voice cutting through the ringing in his ears. The one that kept the voices out. "Bryan, I am truly sorry."

"Son of a bitch!" Aaron swore kneeling next to Tory's prone form. His voice breaking. "The son of a bitch!" He repeated. "There was no reason for this," he sputtered, caught up with anger and sorrow. "There was no reason for him to do this! She didn't do anything to him!"

"This wasn't about her," Bryan spoke for the first time, his voice almost a whisper. "This was about revenge." 

__

Tell the Son of Gondor, we are now even.

"Bryan," Legolas said trying to offer comfort but none of them present knew what to say that could lessen the hurt. Words had meant little to him when Melia had passed. Even after all this time, Legolas could not forget the soul crushing sensation of seeing her life slip away from him forever. At this moment, he could understand completely what Bryan was feeling. "I grieve with you. We will make him pay for this. This time he will not be resurrected."

"What does it matter?" Bryan asked in a listless voice still staring at those vacant eyes. "She's gone. Killing him won't bring her back."

Legolas did not know how to answer that because he was right. Destroying Sauron would not change anything. Tory would still be gone and Bryan would still be standing before them all as if the best part of him had been gutted from his flesh with knife. All the emotions he could see on the man's face, he knew, he had felt once before. The unfairness of it, the injustice that caused something precious to be taken away before its time. 

There was a wall inside Bryan Miller. A wall he had erected in the moments following the discovery of her cold lifeless body being pelted by rain and wind, which Miranda had been crouched next to weeping while she held a sobbing Fred. Behind it was a torrent of grief the likes of which he had never known in his existence, a maelstrom of rage that was as violent as the storm tearing across Valinor at this moment. He had built it because it was the only way he knew how to cope with her being gone and even as he stood here, seemingly composed, he could feel the cracks against the stone, the fissures that were being created. His rage eclipsed the one that Aaron was currently displaying, it was a block hole inside of him, dangerous and all consuming. He just had to stay away from it now. He had to stay away from it or else he would start screaming and never stop.

He turned away from her, unable to look anymore. Instead, he went to Miranda who was holding Fred in her arm, cradling the child like she was a two-year old, accepting her sobs the way only a mother of two could know how to do. Miranda met his gaze and there was no need to ask, she immediately handed Bryan his child. Bryan took Fred in his arms, holding her in a clenching embrace as she continued to weep, the sound of her tears doing more damage to the wall inside him than all the agony in the world.

"Bryan!" Fred sobbed loudly. "I knew he was going to do it!" She blubbered. "I knew it! I saw it!" 

Bryan closed his eyes, almost breaking then. Closing his eyes, he blocked out everything but the need to be strong for this child because she was the only thing that still held any meaning for him. A few tears escaped him them, silent ones that no one could see for the rain. "Its alright Fred," he said softly in a voice he had become practiced at using since this little waif entered his life so unexpectedly and changed everything in her wake. "You couldn't have done anything to stop this, do you understand me? Nothing. It isn't your fault."

Oh God Tory, how am I going to do this without you?

He asked himself and sucked in his grief forcing himself to reinforce that wall once more. "We have to get out of here," he said in a strong voice to the others. "We have to find out what's going on. Aaron if he's been here," Bryan couldn't bring himself to say Tory's name out loud or say that the bastard killed her, "he may have gone after Eve as well. We need to find them. Now."

Aaron who was wiping his own tears nodded. His grief had subsided for the moment because if Bryan could hold it together in the face of an unimaginable loss, he had to as well. He had to for Eve and the baby. Oh Christ the baby, if Saeran knew about the baby, he could avenge himself almost on Aaron almost as cruelly as he had done to Bryan. He raised himself to his feet, hardly noticing it when Eric had draped a blanket over Tory's dead form. 

"We have to find her," Aaron said meeting Legolas' gaze. "She's pregnant. If he finds hers and finds out she's pregnant..."

"With child?" Elrohir exclaimed. "My sister is with child?"

"Yes," Aaron nodded still somewhat dazed. "We were keeping it a secret. We wanted it to be a surprise for Elrond and Bri."

There was no time for anyone to savor this news because the mood was too heavy with tragedy for that. The talk of life in the face of such unimaginable loss seemed almost profane. They absorbed Aaron's news for what it was and then moved on. There was no other choice.

"Alright then," Bryan nodded, switching his train of thought to the soldier who knew how to control his emotions for the job to be done. "Miranda, I want you to take the kids to Tirion. If there's an answer to what the bloody hell is going on here, it's there. You need to find Frank and wait at Elrond's. Chances are if this shit has hit the fan, that's where he'll be anyway."

"Elladan would take him there," Elrohir nodded. "Although I do not know how safe it will be."

"It's the best chance we have to find an answer," Eric agreed. "We're no safer out here then we are in the city." The newsman did not look at Tory at his feet as he said that. "At least in Tirion we'll have some idea to fight this thing."

"Fight it?" Aaron stared at him. "How?" he lashed out. "Where the hell did he get the power to do this! I thought he was trapped down there in Mandos! I thought the Valar had him under control. How the hell does he managed to move Valinor into the real world like this?"

Legolas and Elrohir exchanged glances. "I do not know," Legolas answered. "He should not be able to have escaped Namo let alone Mandos. That he has done both gives me great fear for not merely our own sakes but the Valar as well. He could not have done this beneath their notice."

"Unless he's found someway to get around them," Miranda replied. "Or incapacitate them."

  
"That is impossible!" Elrohir burst out. "Sauron is Maiar not Ainur. For him to best Manwe and the rest of the Valar is simply impossible. He may be Valar himself but he has always been a lesser. For him to have unleashed all this is impossible!"

"Well I'm sorry to bloody say that he has," Eric declared angrily because he liked Tory, she was kind and sweet and deserved better than to die like this. "Look around you. This isn't Valinor, this is the Arctic fucking circle and this island is in it. If Sauron didn't do this? Who did?"

"Let's us not fight," Legolas said trying to keep tempers down. "We can think of the how at a later when there is time for it. Now we must do as Bryan says, we must get the children to safety and find both Eve and Ariel."

The former prince of Mirkwood was trying not to let his own fears overcome him. He had lost her once, had believed keeping her here would protect her but now Legolas was realising that such protection was impossible, that there would always be some danger, somewhere. It made him all the more determined to reach her. He had lost Melia once, he could not bear to lose her again.

"Christ yeah," Aaron nodded, feeling inordinately selfish because Eve was not alone. She was with Ariel and Sauron had no reason to treat her any better than he had treated Tory. Oh Jesus Tory, he closed his eyes and tried not to cry again. He looked at Bryan and saw the former M16 agent was still holding Fred in his arms, letting the little girl sob but the grief in his eyes, the grief he would not unleash himself. It was so sharp that it almost pierce the skin of anyone who knew how to read his eyes. Aaron saw Miranda staring at Bryan, her lovely face strained and anguished not just for the loss but also for Bryan, like she knew exactly what he was feeling. Aaron saw her and thought at that moment she was the moment beautiful woman he had ever seen save Eve. She was like a statue in marble with living eyes, full of emotion.

  
"The kids are in the wagon ready to go," Jason who had been given the task of getting the children settled, announced as he returned to them. "Sam's okay but Pip's taking it hard." For some odd reason Jason felt like the kids were his responsibility. He knew he had to do with the fact that in that other life the elves seemed to remember so clearly, he was one of four hobbits who had left their Shire home to change the face of Middle Earth. Since coming to understand who he had been, Jason had developed this sense of protectiveness towards Fred, Sam and Pip. Maybe that's why he had been brought back as an adult in comparison to the others who were children, because one of them had to be and it was just his luck of the draw. 

"Thank you," Miranda gave Jason a look of gratitude and came to Bryan, "let me take her."

"No," Fred protested as Bryan removed her arms from around his neck. "I don't want to leave you Bryan, please don't make me go!"

Christ! Bryan had to shut his eyes to keep her face out of his mind. "Its just for a little while Fred, I'm coming right back. I have to go and see if Aunt Eve and Ariel are safe! I won't be long I promise!" 

"Come on darling," Miranda took her from him, aware that he was nearing breaking point. 

Of all the people present, Miranda was the one who had the greatest understanding of how Bryan was feeling at this moment, what mechanisms he was using to maintain his composure. She knew that Fred alone had the power to break that fragile facade and thus took the little girl away before he crumbled entirely and was no good to anyone. 

"Bryan will be along soon enough. Sam and Pip are waiting," she said giving him a look of sympathy over Fred's shoulder. There were no words needing to be exchanged between the two. They had been warriors in the field who had seen each other through the best and worst of things. Fred had resigned herself to that fact that she would be parted from him and lay her head against Miranda's shoulder, sobbing silent tears that broke the woman's heart as surely as it must be going to Bryan. 

"Go with her," Bryan said to Jason in a strained voice. "You too Eric."

"Alright," Eric nodded, having no objection to playing guardian to Miranda and the kids especially when it appeared the road to Tirion could be perilous. "We're on our way. You'll meet us there?" He looked at Bryan with concern.

"Yes," he nodded. "As soon as we find Eve and Ariel, we'll meet you in the city." Bryan could not even look at Miranda's direction because Fred's tears were cutting through him like a knife.

"What about Tory?" Aaron asked looking at the body.

Everyone froze and looked to Bryan immediately. 

  
He blinked slowly and marveled that the pain could even be worse than what he already felt. "We'll come back for her," he said after a long moment, his voice little more than a whisper. Rain plastered hair against his face, water running down the bridge of his nose, hiding the stray tears that came from his eyes, the one that came involuntarily. "Everyone get to the horses," he said in a voice none dare defy, elf or human. "I want a moment."

Once again, no one argued and they withdrew leaving Bryan alone with the body concealed beneath the soaked blanket. He did not know how long he stood there, minutes perhaps. The time did not seem to register. He noticed everything, the manner in which the blanket clung to her form, the glistening water on the saturated fabric, the hem of it swaying in the wind and the sand soaked ground where she had fallen. Numb, he walked forward finally and lowered himself beside her. Slowly, he removed the shroud from her face and saw that Eric had thankfully closed her eyes. Her skin pale, still looked very much like the English rose she was and for an instant, he could have been forgiven for thinking that she was asleep. He had watched her some mornings, watched her light breathing, with all that glorious red hair framing her face. 

The tears came then, treacherous things running down his cheeks. He allowed himself one single deep sob before suppressing it again. His hand reached her cheek. It was cold, lifeless. He had seen men on the battlefield, dying, bleeding, worse than this. Some had even died at his own hand but no death had ever speared him like this. He lowered his lips to her, trembling as they brushed against her forehead, still cold, still lifeless, blinking once as tears and rain spattered against the skin. 

"Its my turn luv," he said blinking away the tears. "Next time, I'll find you."

***********

A strange sort of calm had befallen Tirion.

Within the home of Elrond Peredhil, elves waited and listened, unsettled by the sudden silence. There marriage of cold and fire and ended. The flames had died under the pounding sheets of rain, earlier given dominance by the great winds. A glimmer of ice had begun to form over everything, windows, roofs and towers. The city of pearl and jewel had become as desolate as any forgotten by time, darkened by evil. The only burst of life came from the balrogs that roamed the streets, like dogs sniffing out prey. No longer were any elves on the street. Those who had not fled were dead. The Urloki had gone, departed a short time ago like a flock of carrion eaters that had found better spoils elsewhere. 

Frank raced across the polished marble floor, covered now in debris and soot, surrounded by rumbling voice of frightened refugees who had been driven here in a mad bid to escape. Elsewhere the warriors were assembling, marshalling their forces and preparing to attack. Glorifindel was leading them and Elrond, who had not seen battle since the Second Age was even now donning armor. Elladan had left Frank's side to be with his father, preparing to ride into battle once more, perhaps finally against the balrogs that lay Tirion to siege. As he hurried up the spiral staircase, he passed by more shocked faces, faces that had not been able to believe that their paradise could become reduced to this nightmare. Most had never known a day of difficulty in their lives and now they were confronted by an evil they could not possibly imagine.

"Where are they Bri?" Frank asked as he reached the upper floors of the elven lord's home and saw his lady. 

The mother of Arwen Evenstar looked upon him with a face filled with anxiety. He couldn't blame her. Her husband and her son were going to fight creatures beyond these walls Frank couldn't even begin to imagine. "They are preparing to ride to face Morgoth's demons." She said fearfully. 

"I have to go too," Frank said meeting her eyes and saw his statement was met with a worried expression across her lovely face. "I have to go find Miranda and the kids. They're still out there."

"No you must not," she said anxiously. "The balrogs are outside, they will kill if you attempt to leave the city!" 

"My wife and boys are out there," Frank looked at her earnestly, "I can't hide in here safe when I don't know if they are." 

She protested but Frank was not listening, he was hurrying up the stairs to find Elrond and Elladan, definitely intending to take his leave. Miranda had wanted to take the kids to the beach with Tory, so they may still be there, safe from all this madness. He had no more reached the top of the stairs when he halted, his breath catching as he saw Elrond sweeping down the steps, clad in the shiny polish of elven armor, sword and shield in hand. Next to him, Elladan was similarly armed while flanking his father on one side as Glorifindel took position on the other. 

"Elladan," he said to the younger Peredhil, "I need to go get Miranda and the kids."

"They are safer than you are at this moment," Glorifindel returned promptly, fastening the scabbard to his belt as he descended the steps. "Tirion is under siege, the Balrogs are killing anyone on they can lay their hands on. They have not started breaking down the walls yet but it will not be long."

"I don't care," Frank exclaimed. "I'm going."

"Frank," Elladan tried to reason with him. "It is exceedingly dangerous outside. You saw it. There were not merely balrogs that roam the streets killing but Urloki and wargs. The vault of darkness has been unleashed upon us and who knows what countless evils have been freed?"

"Your wife and children are coming here," a feminine voice spoke that captured all their attention. 

  
Elrond's gaze was fixed behind him and as Frank turned around felt his breath catch in his throat. It was always the way when one came into the view of Galadriel. He doubted that any man could look at her without feeling some measure of schoolboy adoration. In Galadriel the luminescence of the elves seemed personified, with creamlike skin and hair so golden that it seemed like she brushed it with drops of the sun. She looked at Frank with eyes like pools into forever, filled with wisdom that he'd never truly grasp even if he read all the books in the world.

"Your wife and child are coming here," Galadriel repeated herself and somehow, if she said it, Frank knew it was the truth. It was an amazing faith for a man of science to have but it was the truth. Since coming to Valinor, Frank had learned that not all knowledge was found in facts or empirical evidence, some was simply in the heart. 

"Then I need to help them find their way here," Frank looked at Elladan for help. "If they're coming here, the balrog.."

"Father," Elladan looked hastily at Elrond. 

"Go," Elrond nodded in understanding. A father who had once lost a child himself, Elrond knew perfectly well what was going through Frank's heart, what fears he was enduring. 

"Thank you," Frank said gratefully.

"What safety there will be here is fleeting, Frank," Galadriel spoke again. "We are none of us safe in this realm. The End of Days has come."

Elrond released a breath and Glorifindel's jaw seemed to tense. The exclamation brought the rumbling within the room to a sudden fault and suddenly everyone was looking at Galadriel with the undivided attention. 

"What is the End of Days?" Frank asked looking at the others around seeing he was the only one who did not immediately know its significance. 

"The time when all things must come to an end," she said enigmatically as only Galadriel could. "For all things, there is a beginning and an end," she paused and moved from Frank, to Elrond, Elladan and Glorfindel in quick succession. "Even for us."

Frank did not understand fully but the apocalyptic quality of it was not lost upon him. Something was happening. Something steeped in prophecy and legend. "I don't understand. What the end is nigh or something?"

"For all things to renew, there must first come an end," she explained as if it was the easiest thing in the world to understand. 

"What does that mean?" Frank asked shaking his head in confusion.

She smiled at him and it was as if he was staring at the breaking of dawn, when the sunlight peered across the dark sky for the first time. However just as suddenly as this new day broke, her expression hardened and her voice altered.

"Sauron has been unleashed upon the world again." 

"What?" Elladan exclaimed. "How is that possible? We left in Mandos under the charge of Namo."

"He is more than he ever was," she said sounding very much like the Noldor princess that had ruled in Middle earth for so long as the undisputed leader of the elven people. "I do not fully understand how but he is far stronger than we have ever feared imagining. He has opened the Forbidden Vaults, released upon the world of men all the evil of our ages. His power is almost absolute."

"If he is so powerful, why not simply destroy us now?" Glorfindel demanded one the shock had set in and the acceptance of what could be the only logical answer was before them.

"He will destroy us," Galadriel answered, "but he has an entire world to claim and an army to lead to this end. We are but one island and he has time."

"He'll get to us when we're important enough," Frank surmised.

"He left the Balrogs took keep us restrained," Elrond nodded in understanding. 

"He has already left these shores," she raised her eyes to Frank and added quietly, "he has taken your daughter with him."

  
Elrond's eyes widened. "Eve! He took Eve?"

"Jesus Christ," Frank's thought immediately fell upon Aaron who since their meeting six months ago had become fast friends. The two men were very much alike; scholars who suddenly found themselves embroiled in a fantastic world. Though Aaron, Frank had gotten to know Eve and feared for her in Saeran's clutches.

"We will find her," Elladan replied, his jaw setting in anger as he regarded his father. Elrond's expression was a mixture of anger, worry and anguish. "We will not Sauron have her."

"It is not her he wants," Galadriel said quietly, "he thinks she is Luthien. He thinks she is Luthien incarnate?"

"Luthien?" Frank stammered, hating to be the one who did have all the answers for one. "I thought Eve was supposed to have been Undomiel..."

"It was said," Glorifindel explained, "that the Evenstar resembled Luthien greatly. When Luthien sought to free Beren, she was said to have gone to the fortress at which Sauron commanded and sang a song so sweet that even the dark creatures within were moved by her voice."

"Did he move Sauron?" Frank asked, "is that why he took her?"

The thought horrified Elrond beyond belief. Frank could see the utter terror at the thought that Sauron might have designs upon his daughter. It was the same shadow that settled upon him when he had seen Sam and Pip taken by the Nazgul all those months ago. Every time he saw his boys, he was filled with a renewed sense of gratitude that they were safe and sound. Thus he understood with complete empathy the fear that even one as aged and wise as Elrond Peredhil must feel at the thought of Eve in the hands of the dark lord. 

"If he touches her..." Elrond hissed with a look in his eyes that sent shivers down the spine of everyone present, no matter who they were.

"He will not harm her," Galadriel said quickly, perhaps sensing that her son in law was about to become overwhelmed by his fears for his precious, mortal daughter. "Not while she carries the child."

"The child!" Elrond exploded. "What child?"

"She is with child and while she carries the babe," Galadriel explained, "he will not harm her. Do you not see a more perfect vengeance for him Elrond against the heir of Isildur? To make a slave of his enemy's child?"

"Christ," Frank said appalled. "Look, what are we going to do? I need to find my children and my wife but we also need to go help Eve! You said it yourself, this balrogs or whatever they are, are merely a distraction. They're little more than flypaper to keep us busy while he goes and turns the world into seventh level of hell!"

"The balrogs could reduce Valinor to ash," Glorifindel snapped. "They must be dealt with immediately." 

"If Sauron is allowed to do what he wants to do to the rest of the world, it won't matter if Valinor is saved or not," Frank declared. "He'll come back here and finish what the balrogs didn't."

"He is right," Galadriel said somberly. "We must learn what he intends, somehow we must stop him."

"How?" Elladan asked aghast, remembering that it had required the intervention of the Valar to put down Morgoth. If Sauron was now equal to the dark one's power, how could they hope to stop him? "If he can do all this and we are alone without the grace of the Valar to help us, how can we prevail? How can we fight this evil?"

**********

She stopped crying. 

The wagon moved towards Tirion with Jason driving it while Eric followed closely behind on his horse watching cautiously for any signs of danger. Slung over the newsman's shoulder was an AK47, courtesy of Bryan who would not allow him to make the journey without being suitably armed. Although Eric doubted the effectiveness of such a weapon against what was flying around Valinor, he did not want to argue with Bryan. So far Frank's brother had managed to maintain his poise but this would not last indefinitely. Bryan was avoiding his pain because the moment required it, a soldier's discipline but like Miranda could see how close he was to breaking.

Miranda on the other hand, was sitting in the back of the wagon, grateful that Bryan had ordered Tory's body left behind. She honestly did not relish having the woman's corpse riding the same wagon as the children. Miranda did not think Fred's fragile psyche could endure seeing her foster mother lying dead in front of her for the entire journey to Tirion. Fred's arms were still around her neck as she sat against the tray wall of the wagon. Miranda held the little girl in her arms determined that she would gut anything else that tried to hurt this child who had lost so much already. Miranda suspected Fred had also lost Bryan but hoped that the man would prove her wrong. 

Sam sat next to his mother, leaning his head against her shoulder as he watched her offering comfort to Fred, thinking that his mum should be Fred's mum too because his mum would never let anything bad happen to Fred. Pip was lying next to mum in the same way and Sam thought that this was how it was going to be. With a flash of insight he was not able to explain, he had a sense that this was how it would be now. Because of this tragedy, Fred had found her way into his family and here she would stay. 

Fred stopped crying and sat up from Miranda's embrace. 

Sam looked into her eyes and tensed, sitting up instinctively. Something had changed.

"We have to go back." Fred said.

Miranda stared at the little girl. "What?" 

Fred turned to face Miranda. Her dark hair was still plastered to her damp skin and clothes as she moved. Powerful blue eyes stared at Miranda, no longer filled with tears and grief. "We have to go back. We have to find the others."

"No, we have to go to Tirion," Miranda said, uneasy because Fred's voice was no longer a child's voice. There was an edge to it that was so far removed from the little sobbing waif in her arms a short time ago that Miranda feared that something might have snapped inside Fred and pushed her over the edge.

  
"There is nothing for us in Tirion," Fred repeated herself. "Sauron does not lie there. He goes to Arda to rule and he will do so by burning everything of men to the ground, to reduce the entire world to a pile of cinder. If we are to stop him, we must go there now, while there is time to prevent it."'

"Fred," Miranda started to say. She knew that there was something about this little girl that was different. Tory had said she had some kind of connection to David Saeran, that the ring they both once wore as Frodo Baggins and Sauron bound them together. It had followed them both into this life, linking them inexorably to each other. Like Ying and Yang, day and night, good and evil. Miranda forced away the surge of grief that came with remembering Tory and focussed on what the woman had actually said and not the fact that she had been cruelly taken away from them. Fred saw things. She had a sense about Sauron, a second sight that she should not be able to possess.

"We have to go Miranda," Fred looked at her with those soulful eyes. "We have to go soon. For all things there is a time to begin and end. The End of Days is here."

"Mum," Sam tugged at her sleeve, "she's right. Fred knows these things."

Miranda was wrought with indecision, "Fred, even if I believed what you're saying, there is no way to stop him. He is powerful and strong."

Fred simply stared at her. "For all things, there is a time to begin and a time to end. The forms must be obeyed, the end must happen for the new to begin."

"I don't understand," Miranda shook her head, wondering where this was coming from. It was not a child that was speaking to her. It was something else.

Or _someone_ else.

**BACK TO MAIN PAGE**


	5. Chapter Four

****

Chapter Four

The Taking of Arda

The Lord of Mordor was returning home.

Across the icy sea, the grey ships sailed once more, heralded in the storm skies by the Urloki, blazing their heated breaths through the brittle winds of the Arctic sky. Their great wings flapping to compare with the strongest gales as they soared through the air for the first time in two hundred thousand years. As they flew towards Arda, the Urloki were filled with an euphoria they had not known since their first days beyond the pits of Angband. The winged serpents took the sky like birds that had been caged for so long and it was said that in some way, dark as it was, the flight was a celebration of freedom from the darkness beneath Mandos.

He was once known as Sauron, Lord of Mordor looked upon his airborne army and for a moment, shared their elation. They fretted above the grey ships, like worms at play and he knew that when the time came, his dragons would put aside their joy at being unleashed and wreak doom upon all men once again. The dragons had been promised the treasures of Arda, to horde in dark places beneath the Earth as dragons were apt to do. He stood on the bow of the ship, feeling the wind rushing through the hair of his human shell and felt for a moment, a kinship with the great beasts who were savoring their freedom.

The grey ships had swept speedily beyond Eldamar and were now making their way to open sea, a flotilla of ships flanked by fell beasts in the sea beside it and by the Urloki keeping a vigil overhead. A great wind propelled them forward, straining the sails to breaking point but if nothing else he, who was once Sauron, knew the skill of the Teleri. The sails would not tear and he would have these ships to Arda in days, not weeks. Already the Nine had sensed him and were journeying across the land to meet him. Perhaps not Nine but rather eight. That fool Morgul had gotten his arrogant self banished to the shadow realm and once Sauron was so inclined, he would restore his servant.

At the bow of the lead ship, Sauron saw the frothing waters flanking the ships, created by the watchers that were keeping pace with the false wind he had created. The watchers were not often seen as such vital creatures, swimming at speeds that would rival and best any contemporary leviathan. The beasts were accustomed to resting in one place, allowing their food to come to them. However, when compelled to it, they moved fast and when confined for as long as these had been, were eager to swim unfretted as care freely as the Urloki above them all.

Across the deck, the wargs had settled down on the deck, their heads hanging over the side like dogs in a speeding car, mouth open as the wind rushed at them, ears flapping and for a moment, he was almost amused at how much like their contemporary counterparts they were. Of course the similarities were few, wargs were almost five times the sizes of wolves. They were large enough to be ridden and once their teeth snapped around your neck. You were dead even if your mind was foolish enough to believe a struggle might save it.

The spiders were below deck, preferring the shadows than the light, even when it was shrouded by the dismal grey of the arctic circle. He felt no cold as he stood on the bow of his ship, watching destiny rushing to meet him after so long. He, who called once Sauron, now the human David Saeran, knew that the endgame was upon him. Whether or not he won or lost, it was time to play the final game, to unleash hell on earth and see whom was left standing. As Caesar said on the banks of the Rubicon;

__

Let the dice fly.

The watcher sensed the movement.

It moved swiftly, swift enough to inspire the curiosity of the great beast swimming close to the surface of the ocean above. The watcher could sense hearts beating even from so far away, faints sounds that drew it to them like drops of blood in a vast ocean. The fell creature, mesmerized by the promise of so many living hearts, immediately broke from its brethren and began surging towards the depths, eager to find the source, even if it was accompanied by strange sounds the creature could not place.

There was something wrong.

At first Captain Isaiah Hill could not define exactly what it was. He sat in his chair on the bridge, reading morning reports, half listening to the chatter of his men at their stations, trying to decide whether or not he would make it home in time for he and his daughter Lori to have their yearly birthday lunch in three days. The maneuvers were running over schedule and though he knew it was through no fault of him or his crew, Isaiah was nonetheless disappointed that the delay would interrupt a ritual he and Lori had been practicing for the last ten years since her sixteenth birthday. His wife Diane had died shortly before that day had arrived and Lori, his only child had not felt much like celebrating. Thus every birthday since her sixteenth, they had shared dinner together and though her duties as a Navy pilot made it difficult to manage, the ritual had never been interrupted.

For the moment however, that annoyance did not bother him as much as the niggling sensation on the back of his spine that something was not quite right. Standing up from his chair, Isaiah walked across he bridge of the SSN-21 USS Connecticut, a ballistic missile submarine of the Seawolf Class, presently cruising the Arctic Sea at a speed of 30 knots, crew complement of 133 men, 12 of which were officers. He knew instinctively that everything was all right but his senses were tingling and they had nothing to do with radioactive spiders but rather twenty years of naval experience almost six of which as captain of this particular boat.

It came upon him suddenly, when he realized that amidst the chattering, the occasionally electronic beeps, that something was missing, a sound that was indicative of this time of year. Always at Lori's birthday he noticed it because the months coincided but this year, there was only silence and that unnerve.

"Hennesy," Isaiah asked, "when was the last time you heard any biologics?"

The young com officer looked up at his captain quizzically, "I beg your pardon Sir?"

"You heard me," he repeated himself. "When was the last time you heard any biologics? You know, goddamn whales?"

"A couple of hours," the younger man replied nervously. "Its not something we keep records for Sir," he tried to explain.

"I know that lieutenant," Isaiah looked at him. "But this time of year is when they migrate to colder waters and last year we were thinking of lighting one of the candles just to shut them up. Don't you find it odd that it's suddenly so quiet out there?"

"Yes Sir," Hennessy replied but there was nothing he else he could add because unless there was some unusual activity taking place in the ocean, he was at a loss to his captain to explain what was the cause for the absence.

Isaiah returned to his command chair, making a mental note to speak to someone about this occurrence when he returned to shore, perhaps at one of the oceanography institutes at Norfolk. Maybe they could explain the mysteries of whale migration pattern and why this silence seemed to so unnerving to him.

Suddenly the console where Lt. Harris was presently stationed came alive with flashing lights and a low whine that indicated the hardware had detected something it did not like. Isaiah was on his feet in seconds, crossing the bridge floor along with his First Officer, Commander Purcelli.

"What is it Harris?" Isaiah demanded.

"Sir, we have something hot coming on sonar that's headed straight at us!" Harris exclaimed with a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

"I want a better definition than something Mister," Isaiah barked.

"I don't think it's a boat!" Harris' voice mirrored his confusion.

"Its moving at 30 knots," Purcelli leaned over his shoulder and studied the rate of the advancing bogey. "Of course it's a boat."

"I don't know Sir," Hennesy chimed in. "If it is a boat, it isn't making any of the noise that its supposed to be."

"What?" Isaiah looked over his shoulder at the young man. "Report lieutenant."

"It's just that there's nothing coming through on passive sonar, no propellers, no machinery, no talking nothing. Even if they were going on silent running, at thirty knots, we'd hear something but its all quiet out there."

"Any chance it's a biologic?" He questioned.

"It's moving at 30 knots Captain," Purcelli interjected. "Whales don't go that fast."

"Sir, its a five hundred feet and closing," Harris announced. "Its definitely on interception range."

The tension on the bridge was mounting but not because of the attack because they could not determine what it was that was coming at them. Isaiah thought quickly and decided to solve this once and for all. "Purcelli, initiate active sonar for me. One ping. Let's find out once and for all what we're dealing with here."

"Four hundred feet and closing," Harris declared once again.

As Purcelli went to his station to carry out the Captain's order, Isaiah turned to his helm officer. "Get out of its way and see if its follows us. I don't want to be getting jumpy just because some Russian might be on maneuvers the same as we. Unless there's a war going on and nobody told us," he added dryly.

"One ping activated," Purcelli responded and for the minutes that followed, everyone on the bridge waited for the reflecting pulse of sound to reach the hull of the enemy ship and be sent back to alert them what threat was approaching it. The returning acoustics would tell those on the bridge just what kind of boat they were dealing with, the echoing reverberation providing a telling signature. Seconds dragged into minutes and the signal returned hard, it echoed through the confines of the ship but provided no answers.

"Any idea what it is?" Isaiah demanded as the ping resonance alone would be able to help determine what kind of sub they were facing.

"We can't identify it," Harris said after a moment, "but we should get a visual soon."

"That's impossible," Purcelli shook its head. "Maybe its a new kind of sub, something that doesn't..." no that couldn't be, he thought. It was impossible unless the laws of physics had undergone some radical change. There were just some things that technology could not overcome and this was one of them.

"Get us out of its way," Isaiah said calmly, moving to the command chair now and taking a seat, a pose his men knew meant he was preparing for a fight.

"Two hundred feet," Harris's voice echoed through the bridge. "It's definitely closing on us."

"Plot countermeasures," Isaiah said coolly taking the first step.

"Aye Sir," came Purcelli's reply and the bridge became a hive of activity, with the sub's efforts to evade the enemy noticed by the subtle ripple in his coffee cup. Other than that, no one noticed that the Connecticut was playing tag with its unidentified enemy. "Helm, plot countermeasures."

"Countermeasures plotted now," " the helmsman nodded.

"Sir," Harris spoke up. "I think you better come look at this."

Isaiah exchanged a glance with his first officer and then moved to Harris' screen. What appeared on the sonar was not a boat by any definition of the word. It wasn't a whale either. As Captain and XO stared, both were gripped with the same thought. What the hell were they looking at?

"Is that a biologic?" Purcelli finally broke first. "It doesn't look like a whale."

"It's definitely not a whale," Harris returned. "I don't know what the hell that is. A squid perhaps?"

"That's a pretty fucking big calamari," Purcelli remarked dubiously.

"Doesn't matter," Isaiah replied taking the gloves off. "Flood torpedo tubes 1 and 2!"

"It maintaining pursuit Sir," Harris replied, "it's not letting us go. It's matching our speed."

"I guessed that," Isaiah said

Sitting back down in his chair, he heard Purcelli inform him a few seconds later that the torpedo tubes 1 and 2 were flooded and loaded.

"Release a mine and detonate by remote before it gets to the target," Isaiah ordered, "it its a biologic, see if this scares it off. I don't want to launch a Mk 4 at a whale unless I really have to."

"Aye Sir," Purcelli nodded in agreement. "Launch a mine."

Meanwhile Isaiah took the opportunity to address his men who must surely be wondering what was happening on the bridge with the sub suddenly switching from cruising to full speed ahead. "All hands, this is Captain Hill, we've encountered a whale with a hard on for this ship," he replied with a hint of amusement, though there was none in his voice. They didn't need to know they were being chased down by something the bridge couldn't identify, not yet anyway. "We're detonating a mine to try and drive it away without harm so please remain calm and we'll keep you informed of developments as they take place."

A slight shudder through the ship indicated the launch of the small mine from the Connecticut. "Mine's away." Purcelli announced to the captain.

"Wait until it's beyond the halfway point between us and the biologic and detonate. That will show we mean business." Isaiah replied.

"Aye Sir," Purcelli nodded.

A few more seconds passed and the explosion could be felt throughout the ship as the shock wave impacted against the sub, a low, dull sound that caused a slight shimmer through the metal but little else. The modern submarines were built to withstand greater strains against its hull but a mine was still a mine and Isaiah was tense. There was something about this he didn't like. Something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Is it gone?" He asked almost as soon as the shudder had died.

"No Sir," Harris responded barely a fraction of a second later. "It's increased its speed. Its fifty feet away."

"What the hell!" Isaiah stood up and looked at him in annoyance. It was too close to fire a torpedo now. "What's its speed?"

"Increasing to 35 knots," Harris looked at him as amazed as the rest of the bridge.

"Thirty five knots?" Isaiah couldn't hide his shock. "It's closing."

"Fire another mine at it!"

"But its too close..." Purcelli started to say but they didn't have any choice. The captain was correct. Whatever was following them had to be stopped now, before it reached them. With no idea of what the thing even was, they could not allow it to intercept the submarine. There were too many incidents in recent times of subs going down in these depths and almost all of them ended tragically with the loss of all hands. He was not going to have Lori face another birthday losing another parent. He couldn't do that to his little girl.

"Do it!" Isaiah barked.

"Release another mine," Purcelli ordered.

"All hands," Isaiah was shouting through the com system, "brace for mine detonation!" This one was going to be close and they would feel it. In fact they might more than just feel it. It could potentially damage the ship.

The blast sent powerful shock waves through the water and the submarines reeled from the concussive force. The sound resonated throughout the hull, ensuring that every man on board knew the peril they faced. The explosion was followed by another sound and this one was more unearthly, a dull roar that traveled through the water, caused Seamen Hennessy to pull away his headset as the noise penetrated the metal.

"What the hell was that?" Purcelli asked.

No sooner than the question was heard, something hard smashed against the hull with enough force to ensure that anything that wasn't bolted down went flying. Isaiah almost fell out of his chair and had to grip the armrests to keep from tumbling to the floor. Not so lucky were Purcelli and Harris who were thrown across the bridge. Across the length of the sub, emergency klaxons screamed to life at the attack. Men who had taken their stations during the alert were reeling from the unconventional assault.

"I think," Isaiah said as he felt another powerful clang against his ship's hull, "whatever it was. We pissed it off. Helm! Full forward rudder!"

"Aye Sir!"

The vessel struggled to surge ahead, despite being in the grip of a creature they could not see except for the faint images in the sonar that were no match for a visual identification. Engines droned to life within the engine room as the nuclear powered submarines propelled itself forward through the icy sea. Within its hull, its occupants held on for dear life as the beast struggled to keep its prey. Tentacles wrapped around the bullet like craft while others smashed against steel determined to buckle it.

"Captain!" Purcelli shouted as status reports came in. "We're taking on water in the rear compartment. Engineering is sealing it but we gotta get out of here."

"Launch a torpedo!" Isaiah shouted.

"But..." Purcelli protested. A torpedo would avail them nothing. The 'thing' that had them was too close! A torpedo would never hit it!

"DO IT!" Isaiah almost roared in response. "Helm! The minute that torpedo launches, you take us full steam ahead! With any luck, the torpedo might surprise it long enough to get away!"

"Aye Sir!" His helmsman nodded and his XO shouted the orders that would see a torpedo launched.

Across the Connecticut, men were struggling to remain calm, carrying out their duties to deal with the damage being caused by the relentless attack. Those who could look out a portal were uncertain of what they were seeing beyond the walls of the boat, dark, vague shapes through the almost black water, a fleeting glimpse of a tentacle but little more. One thing was clear however; whatever lay beyond was determined to tear the boat apart. As the pounding continued, breaches appeared in the hull, fissures allowing the briny water of the sea to seep in, until compartments had to be evacuated and sealed for fear of causing irreparable damage. There was a good deal of prestige that went with serving on a submarine but it came at a hefty price that disasters on board ship especially at this depth were almost always fatal.

The submarine as the torpedo tubes were flooded in readiness and klaxons for launch now screamed across the ship. Isaiah was no longer sitting down, he was next to the helmsman, hoping his gamble would work and that they would gain enough distance between themselves and what that was outside to be able to fight back.

"Torpedo away!" Lt. Briggs, the Torpedo Officer announced.

"NOW" Isaiah shouted.

"Full steam ahead Sir!" The young man shouted as the Connecticut surged ahead, taking advantage of the momentary distraction provided by the launch of the torpedo. The submarine propelled itself forward unaccustomed to accelerating to such speeds so quickly but more than capable of handling the strain. Within, they felt their escape by a violent jerk that made everyone stagger and those who weren't paying attention fell.

"It's in pursuit!" Harris barked out. "Matching our speed at 25 knots!"

"Mr. Purcelli," Isaiah turned to his first officer, a murderous gleam in his eyes. "Launch another torpedo and blow that fucker to pieces."

"Aye Sir," Purcelli nodded with a grin. "You heard the captain!" He barked to Briggs.

"Captain!" Hennesy spoke up, "Sir, it's the reactor room," the young man said uneasily. "All that pounding has caused some damage there. We may have had radiation leakage."

"Of course," Isaiah grumbled. "Tell the reactor room, we'll surface as soon as we're done dealing with the thing that's trying to kill us."

"Torpedo away!"

Once again, the Connecticut shuddered as its discharged the Mark 48 ADCAP torpedo exploded from its tubes and raced through the water, froth trailing behind as it sought out its prey. The Watcher in pursuit took little stock of the small device coming towards it, its savage mind unable to register such a thing as a threat. The prey it was hunting was capable of making strange noises it could not identify and the large expulsion of one of these odd objects had distracted it but deterred it no more than that. The beast had not fed in an age and today it was determined to feast on the hearts contained within the prey's formidable shell.

As the small projectile closed in, the Watcher's focus was still on the prey it was chasing, its own dark heart filled with the pleasure of a worthy hunt. It was so long, so long since it had known the pleasure of hunting for its meal. Trapped in limbo where the absence of hunger did not chase away the need to feed, the Watcher was experiencing the nearest it could feel to exultation as it chased its prey.

It was a fitting sensation to feel at the end.

The explosion tore through its flesh with such shocking finality the fell beast did not have time to register its end. The blast expanded through the water like a bubble, surging out it all directions, causing shock waves of kinetic energy and sound to assault anything in its path. Within the Connecticut, the explosion could be heard through the hull, felt by every man on board as the hull shuddered somewhat and the sub rocked against the wave. Up above on the surface, the expulsion of energy caused a spectacular geyser of froth and foam to be ejected into the grey sky.

"Harris?" Isaiah looked at his sonar officer, wanting to break the silence that followed the blast.

"The enemy is destroyed Sir," the young man said. "Whatever it was."

Isaiah did not show his relief, merely folding his hands behind his back and nodding stoically. That emotion could be expressed by the men sharing the bridge with him and ignored it when they did. "Take us up Purcelli and tell everyone to prepared to carry out radiation protocols once we're on the surface."

"Aye Sir," Purcelli nodded.

The Connecticut made its ascent to the surface without incident as his men prepared to exercise radiation protocols, one of the many drills practiced over time for the event of reactor failure. When one worked on board a nuclear submarine, the danger of radiation was a fact of life and while the engineers ensured the danger was minimal, Isaiah was not about to risk anyone's life by taking half measures. Besides, after the beating his boat had just taken, he was looking forward to seeing a bit of sky overhead.

"We're up to periscope depth Captain," Purcelli announced, prompting Isaiah to leave his command chair.

"Let's see what its like upstairs," he answered, pulling down the device and leaning against the handles as he took a look through the eyepiece. Isaiah hoped it was a nice day. Of course, a nice day in the middle of the Arctic Ocean was any day that didn't have biting rain and heavy sweeping winds. Unfortunately when Isaiah looked through the eyeglass, he was greeted with all these things. The sky was grey and heavy with rain clouds and droplets of rain immediately assailed the lens across the glass.

The ocean for all its choppiness was clear of traffic as Isaiah swiveled around to get a full scope of the surrounding area when something made him pause and straighten up, away from the lens.

"Purcelli," he looked at his first officer. "Where are we?"

"I beg your pardon Captain?" Purcelli looked at him strangely.

"Where in the charts are we?" He asked again.

'The Norwegian basin at coordinates 3 by 87 degrees longitude and latitude, why?" Purcelli inquired.

"That's what I thought," Isaiah nodded, staring at the island he could see in the distance, the island that had never been sighted or recorded in any map in naval history. At first he had thought it was an iceberg but it that was an iceberg then it was the biggest damn one he had ever seen and they didn't usually stay motionless on the horizon. He had been a submariner for almost twenty years and one thing Captain Isaiah Hill knew how to do was tell the difference between land and an iceberg. What he was looking at was definitely the former.

"Purcelli, unless we're fucking off course and all our instrumentation is screwed," he said casually, "I'm seeing an island."

That captured the attention of everyone on the bridge.

"An island?" Purcelli replied. "But there's not supposed to be anything out here."

"Well I'm looking at something," Isaiah replied meeting his first officer's gaze before inviting him to take a look, "it's definitely an island, a pretty big one too."

"What is this the fucking Twilight Zone?" The hot- headed Italian grumbled as he came to look.

"At least," Isaiah agreed with a sardonic smile. An island, in the middle of nowhere, undiscovered. It was impossible. The technology of today could tell what a man was reading in a newspaper from orbit. Global positioning satellites could find terrorists hiding out in caves in the middle of some war torn hell. There was no way an entire island could have been missed, even if centuries of naval exploration had been completely remiss. How on earth had it managed to avoid all detection?

"That's an island," Purcelli retorted when he looked at Isaiah again.

"Can't put anything past you Johnny," Isaiah replied with a hint of amusement. Amusement was the only way he knew how to deal with this. Too much impossibility was springing up on him today. Islands that could not possibly exist and creatures from the depths that could somehow match the speed of a nuclear submarine and come damn near to sinking it, was more than Isaiah should have been able to take. However, being the commander of a boat where every trip had the possibility of being fatal made for incredibly strong nerves, indeed all men who served on submarines developed such calluses over their fear quickly or simply could not function aboard.

"How?" Purcelli shook his head bewildered.

"Doesn't matter how," Isaiah returned smoothly. "What matters is that its there and we need to take look. Take us up to the surface," he ordered.

"Aye Sir," came the automatic reply.

"Take a look?" His XO stared back at him.

"Come on Columbus," Isaiah said with a smile, "we're about to discover the New World."

She should have climbed on her horse and ridden straight away to find Legolas and the others but there was too much evil lurking on Valinor to travel unarmed on this day. She returned to the Anemone after she had sighted the exodus of ships leaving the Bay of Eldamar for the open sea. She had spend enough time on this vessel in the past two years to know where Eve kept certain things. She hurried below decks and sought the chest covered in dust from disuse. Ariel felt like an intruder as she reached for the shelf where the key to this particular box was kept and thanks to her elven senses was able to find it quickly enough.

Lowering herself to her knees, Ariel slid the key into the lock and twisted, wondering if this was madness. It was madness to attempt to reach home without so much as a knife and somehow, she guessed that if she were to run into a warg or a worse yet a spider, a blade would not help her prevail. She had not faced an enemy in her entire life. On Valinor, there were no enemies. She had spent her entire existence sheltered in comfort, learning skills she would never use only because boredom had driven her to acquire it. Ariel was slightly ashamed that now that the moment had come for her to employ any of those skills, she was searching for the simplicity of human efficiency.

Opening the chest, she stared inside at the cache of alien weapons, cast from black iron and looking formidable indeed. Eve had shown her how to use some of these; much to Legolas' chagrin who felt the weapons were crude and lacking any real need of skill to use. Ariel suspected he disliked the idea of her learning the use of any weapon because it might mean some day she would be called onto fight or worse, would believe herself capable. It was not that he wanted her to fail but his desire to protect her forced him into some rather selfish behavior. Before he had gone away to the seek out Olorin, she had tolerated it but now with Arda opened and Ariel finding in herself the need to see what was beyond Valinor, she was becoming less amicable to his restrictions.

She reached for the easiest weapon to handle; the one Eve called the handgun. It was relatively easy to use having no more instructions than a bow. She searched the box for the projectiles that made the weapon work and ran through the list that was branded into her mind thanks to the acuity of elven memory. Loading the gun, she remembered that was something to engage to ensure it did not fire when she did not wish it too and found the...what did Eve call it, the 'safety'? Setting the safety on the weapon, Ariel rose brought down the lid and locked it once more.

It did not take her long to emerge on the ship's deck once more. The wind seemed to blow harder with the coming of night and Ariel considered returning below to find a blanket before she made the long ride home. It was far colder than anything she had ever experienced in her long life and her clothes, soaked from the plunge into the ocean earlier now clung to her skin like sheets of ice. Now that they were no longer under the protection of the Valar, she could fall prey to the sicknesses that were capable of being conjured by exposure to the elements.

Deciding that a blanket would indeed be sensible protection from the cold weather during her ride back to Legolas and the others, Ariel started to move towards the walkway that led inside the vessel when suddenly, she sensed something. It tugged at the corner of her consciousness, instilling her with a chill that had little to do with the icy winds blowing at her skin. She froze and turned around, her eyes searching the length of the boat until her keen hearing honed in on the sound.

Something was breathing, breathing with a heavy pant.

She could feel its menace exuding forth like the slow drift of black smoke. It was drawing near. Ariel's first thought was to flee beneath the deck but then realized to do so would be to invite her own death for its space was too confining to fight if she forced into it. No, what was coming would kill her if she did not acquit herself accordingly. She had never before in her life drawn any weapon to do battle and whilst she knew she had the skill, she lacked the experience that made warriors great. She was not her husband though she wished more than any thing that he were here at this moment facing this peril.

The sense of doom began to form into something hardier, something that had shape and tangibility. It sounded in her ears as the soft pads of flesh against wet wood. Elven senses forced her into movement; her eyes fixed upon the wooden pier that led away from the water's edge to the shore. Cautiously, she moved along the deck of the vessel known as Anemone and froze when she heard the patter of footsteps closing in, moving stealthily towards her. Her heart began to pound as she neared the pier and prepared to disembark when a blast of heat washed over her neck, wet and abated.

She swung around as the warg launched itself at her. Ariel let out a short scream as its massive bulk flew through the air, enormous jaws preparing to snap around her throat. She threw herself out of the way and scrambled to her feet when it landed in the place she had been standing. Leaping over the railing, she landed on the wooden deck and almost lost her footing on the sleet-covered ground. The beast swung its head in her direction and let out an indignant howl at her audacity to run. Ariel had only seen this creatures in books before this day but as malevolent yellow eyes glared at her in hatred, she knew that if she did not defend herself, it would be the last time she saw anything ever again.

The idea of dying. The idea of being killed and leaving her sweet Prince to mourn what would surely be a devastating loss propelled her forward. She needed to reach her horse. Fear compelled her to move without further debate and as she ran, Ariel looked over her shoulder long enough to see the beast give chase. Mouth open, tongue lolling to the side, white teeth gleaming with rain and saliva, the warg advanced quickly, its muscles rippling beneath the pelt of fur. Ariel's faced front, knowing she should not look behind lest she wanted to live when she realized her horse was not there. Where had her mare disappeared! It was only as she reached the end did she see the blood and guessed the animal's fate.

A fate she would soon share. Behind her, she could hear its pounding footsteps closing in on her. Swinging around, she saw the beast coming and it would be upon in a matter of seconds. Heart pounding with terror, Ariel knew there was only one course left to her. Raising the weapon she was still clutching but too uncertain to use, she replayed in her head all of Eve's instruction and prayed that it was enough. Practically shaking as she disengaged the safety precaution she had put into place earlier, she watched in wide-eyed fear as the warg closed the distance and pounced. Her ears were filled with it powerful roar as Ariel began pulling the trigger and then suddenly, the call of the warg seemed to wither and faced with the explosion of sound the weapon in her hand.

Like thunder exploding around her ears, Ariel watched in horror as her simple action of squeezing her finger against the cold steel caused a burst of fire to escape the barrel at the warg in rapid succession. The sound drained all other noise from her hearing, until there was almost physical discomfort in being forced to listen. She did not know how many times she pulled the trigger, only that it created further explosions of near deafening sound. Through this maelstrom of mini-sonic booms, she heard the cry of the warg who would presume to take her life. Its outraged roars of pain soon disintegrating into animalistic howls of defeat. Ariel did not stop pulling the trigger until there was no more noise and every projectile within the weapon's chamber was unleashed upon the beast.

When Ariel opened her eyes, she saw the warg before her, its blood sweeping across the deck towards her feet. Its body riddled in holes, shredded by the 'bullets' as called by Eve, that Ariel had set upon it. She stood over the beast in its death; its massive bulk unmoving as it lay before her dead. Glassy eyes stared into nothingness as Ariel stepped back, not wishing her feet to become stained by blood. She looked at thing in its death and realized that it was the first time in her existence that she had taken a life. Even if it was a fell beast that would have killed her with little remorse, Ariel was nonetheless staggered.

Retreating but a few steps, she sunk to the damp ground, staring at the warg, at the kill she had made today and could understand not how anyone found pleasure in death. It was a bloody, terrible thing, to have such power in ones grasp and yield it to the sorrow of another. She knew it was foolishness, it was a warg that she grieved over but any that asked would know it was not the beast that made her ache so. It was the loss of her innocence.

Never again she could look into the mirror and count herself untainted.

There was blood on her hands.

There was no need of elven senses to hear the sound of gunfire, even through the rain or howling wind.

Bryan Miller had lived with that sound almost all his life. The ability to create that commotion was the defining characteristic of his entire persona. Violence was all he knew and for a brief moment, for a singular instant in time, he was shown another way, a way where one did not have to fight, where faith alone could move mountains and love was not just for poets. She had been everything and when she died, Tory had taken the best of him with her. He knew that now. He knew that as he rode through the rain and sleet to reach Eve, to spare Aaron Stone the emptiness that was swallowing him whole.

"What the hell was that?" Aaron demanded.

"A bloody 45!" Bryan retorted digging his heels into his mount, sending his horse galloping forward with even greater speed. The sounds continued with a cluster of explosions that told Bryan that someone was taking great exception to being attacked and was defending themselves accordingly.

"It Eve!" Aaron shouted, forgetting all his apprehension with horses and he sat forward in his saddle and urged his horse to keep up with Bryan who was galloping ahead hard. It could be no one else. With Miranda, Eric and Jason returning to Tirion with the children, the only person who was capable of firing a 45 was Eve. Aaron felt his heart contract in his chest from cold fear because he knew that Eve loathed to use guns in Valinor. Even when she had been giving Ariel lessons, much to Legolas' consternation, she had tried to limit how many shots were fired. It was profane, she called it. Now it appeared, she was not merely using it, she was firing away guns blazing. With everything they had seen so far tonight, Aaron didn't even want to consider what she and their baby were facing to warrant such an unrelenting attack.

Legolas and Elrohir were soon surging forward with equal determination, one to find the sister that they had found again and the other to ensure the wife he had spent so many years with was not taken by Sauron's malice as Tory had been stolen away from Bryan. Legolas did not speak his anxieties to either Aaron or Bryan because it would avail him nothing and only strain their already precarious emotional states to breaking point. Aaron was terrified not only for his wife but also for his unborn babe. Despite his efforts to maintain his composure, Legolas could see the full extent of grief on every breath that Bryan took.

The former Prince of Mirkwood understood Bryan's pain all too well and had no wish to endure the agony of losing a wife, yet again. A part of him had died when Melia had passed onto the next world and as much as he loved Ariel, even though he knew that she carried Melia's soul, it never felt the same. Not entirely. She was his soul mate and had spared him endless years of sorrow but as much as he despised himself for it, Legolas had never been able to feel the same burning passion for Ariel as he had for that girl in her blue dress that night in Lorien.

Breaking through the forest of trees that framed the shore, it was Legolas who first saw the _Anemone_ swaying precariously above the choppy water, amidst the powerful swell of ocean tides and biting wind. However, it was not the vessel that was had caught his attention and had him pressing his heels deeper into Arod's flank, pushing the horse to thunder forward despite the weather, over taking Bryan as they advanced forward. Sand and mud splattered beneath the hooves while rain swept over him like tiny needles biting at his skin. He could only see his wife, kneeling before the beast, his keen eyes seeing the blood, so much of it that had stained her shoes and turned the hem of her dress crimson.

She had killed the creature, he realized when he reached her after dismounting his horse. Had she used Eve's weapon to do it? Legolas saw her holding the gun in her hand. The idea that she had used it seemed unbelievable to him but then one only had to look at the blood on her clothes and the creature on the pier to know that she had indeed used the malicious weapon on an even more malicious foe.

"Ariel," he called to her.

She turned to him, face stained with tears. Seeing him widened her eyes and relief flooded into her lovely features. "Oh Prince," she cried out and hurried into his arms. "You're here!"

"I would find you wherever you are," he said holding her close. "Are you harmed?"

"No," she shook her head, her face buried in his chest as she wept. "I killed it. I have taken a life."

"It is a life not to be mourned my love," he said stroking her wet hair, aware that the thing she had killed was not the point. It was the entire notion of snatching away life from another being, had deservedly or not. It was a thing that warriors suffered. He had done so in his youth and Thranduil's sympathetic words had assuaged his guilt. Legolas hoped his father's advice would help her as it had helped the young prince of Mirkwood. "You did what needed to be done. You live and the enemy is dead. There is cold comfort in that I know," he said forcing her to look at him. "But it is all that can be hoped for."

Ariel nodded, trying to be brave from her prince when she looked over his shoulder and saw the approach of the others and suddenly, something even greater than her fear emerged to the surface of her tormented thoughts. "Sauron!" She broke away. "He has taken Eve!"

"No," Aaron grimaced, his mind almost paralyzed with horror and anguish at the notion of Eve in Saeran's hand. "Where is she?" He broke into a run to reach Legolas. "Tell me? What did he do?"

Aaron would have grabbed her and shaken the answer out of Ariel if not for Legolas' body shielding her. "Tell me!"

"Aaron," Bryan grabbed his arm, trying to calm him down, understanding all too well what the doctor was going through. "Let her talk!"

Ariel was shaking hard from the cold, her ordeal at the hands of Sauron and the beast that was his agent but she was not so out of her wits that she did not recognize the necessity of an expedient answer. "He forced her to go with him," she said looking at Aaron with sorrow in her eyes. "He threatened the babe in her body and told her," Ariel paused feeling tears come because she had been so helpless, so unable to help her friend. She forced them back, her fingers digging into Legolas' for support as she forced herself to speak, "he told her he would kill it in her belly and I as well if she did not obey. Aaron, she went with him to save us both." There was shame in her eyes.

Aaron turned away, unable comprehend the magnitude of what he was told. Eve, his wife, the son of a bitch had his wife and his child. The enormity of it threatened to choke the life out of him. Saeran had already killed Tory, taken her life out of sheer spite and he had greater reason to hate the reincarnation of Isildur's line. Even if they could defeat the bastard, there was every possibility that he would kill Eve first, kill her before Aaron ever saw her face again. No, he almost doubled over in anguish. Not Eve too, not after Tory.

"God," he whispered. "Eve."

Elrohir came to him and clutched his arm, "we will find her." The elf that was once Undomiel's brother said with determination. "We will get them both back."

"Did you see where they went?" Bryan said quietly, unable to give Aaron any comfort, not when he was trying to deal with Tory's loss. He was strong because he knew how to control his emotions after a lifetime of service to queen and country where he had seen men die and been the cause of their deaths at one time or another. Granted, nothing had prepared him for Tory's death and he would have to deal with the grief of her passing eventually. However, right now, Eve whom he cared about was in the hands of the bastard who took Tory from him and he was not going to let Aaron suffer the same hell.

"He is no longer in Valinor," Ariel broke away from Legolas, finding a reservoir of strength inside her she did not know existed. She looked to the horizon of the grey sea. "He has stolen the grey ships of the Teleri and ferried his agents away from these shores. I saw them," she whirled around and stared at the men before her. "Wargs, orcs, spiders," she spat bitterly, "every foul thing from the depths of Mandos has been freed. He has unleashed them all and they go now to your world," she met Bryan's gaze. "He goes there to rule."

"We must follow him," Legolas returned. "Your people will not know how to fight the Urloki or the Watchers. After the balrogs are done on these shores, they will go forth as well. They will turn Arda to ash."

"My people will fight them," Bryan replied grimly, "but they'll likely destroy the planet trying to do it and I think that's what Saeran wants. He may get his nuclear war yet."

"And we are alone," Legolas said shaking his head, looking to the sky as if staring hard enough would reveal to him the fate of the Valar whose absence in all this was almost as disconcerting as Sauron's departure from these shores. Unfortunately, there was no enlightenment, just more rain and wind turning his pale skin slowly blue.

"Aaron," Bryan looked at the psychiatrist who had been silent in all this, "Aaron I need you to pull yourself together." Bryan strode across the ground towards the doctor and grabbed his arm to force Aaron into facing him.

"Aaron!" Bryan's voice was like the hard snapping of the gale force wind. "I need you to pull yourself together."

"He'll kill her," Aaron said shaking his head. "He'll never let us reach her. He'll kill her the minute we lay our eyes on her."

"AARON!" Bryan barked. "I don't bloody have time for this. She's still alive and while she's alive, we have a chance to get her back! You can deal with that fact or you can write her off now and let me tell you something," his voice almost cracked. "Some hope is better than nothing at all. Eve is still breathing and every moment she breathes is a chance for us to save her."

Aaron stared at Bryan and knew just how hard that was for Bryan to say, how much pain he was actually hiding behind his green eyes. "You think we can get her back?"

"I don't know," Bryan was not about to lie, "but we have to try." His voice almost a whisper. "We have to try while there's a chance."

Bryan turned away and blinked, tightening his control over his emotions as his eyes misted over.

"What has happened?" Ariel saw the son of Gondor's sorrowed expression and knew that something terrible had occurred. Then she remembered what Sauron had said.

_"Do I have to kill another of you?"_

"Who is dead?" Ariel turned to her husband. "What has Sauron done?"

Legolas looked at his wife an answered quietly, "Sauron took Tory's life."

"Oh no!" Ariel gasped softly, her eyes switching immediately to Bryan. "Oh Bryan," her hand flew to her lips as her cheeks became wet with tears. "Not Tory."

Ariel considered the graceful young woman who was mother to Fred and almost wife to the son of Gondor a friend. It was Ariel who aided Tory in finding her way in Valinor, as she had helped Eve when Undomiel's reincarnation had first arrived in the Undying Lands. Tory had been a good, kind soul, a woman who heart bore the serenity of an elf. A sob escaped Ariel and she turned away to hide her grief in Legolas' shoulder, wishing to hide her pain from Bryan who was must be suffering beyond her ability to comprehend. Legolas held his wife, taken back by her strength somewhat. He was seeing something in her that he had not seen before and it was rather taking him by surprise.

"We have to follow him," Bryan said after a composing himself once more. "He'll be heading for England first. His base of power is in Europe, England is the sensible place to start."

"He will marshal all his agents in your world," Elrohir responded. "The Uruks you spoke of," he reminded Bryan and Aaron, "and the creatures in his lair where we battled the Nine."

"He has a great deal of power in Europe," Bryan replied walking towards the horses, "he has all the resources of Malcolm Industries to wage a war on two fronts. The modern world will have no idea what they'll be dealing with."

"He'll go to Romania," Aaron said finally.

"Romania?" Bryan met his gaze and then nodded a moment later when he realized that the doctor was right.

"Yes," Legolas added in agreement. "He is a creature of habit."

"It is his place of power," Elrohir sighed, knowing that once again, the hills of overlooking the Mountain of Fire would be witness to another great battle, perhaps the last one. "Its what he knows."

"And where we have to go to find Eve," Aaron said finally, deciding that Bryan was right. He had no choice but to believe that getting her back was possible. While she still breathed, there was still a chance and there was nowhere he would not go to retrieve her, nowhere that was too far away.

Even to Barad-dûr.

**BACK TO MAIN PAGE**


	6. Chapter Five

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Chapter Five

Tirion

Seeing Tirion in flames was like seeing the desecration of some place holy.

As Miranda Miller closed in on the elven city, escorted by her reincarnated brother and his best friend, with her children huddled in the back of the carriage, she tried to hide the shock on her face. The city of jewel and pearl was alight. The flames within illuminating the night sky with amber glow. It evaporated the rain coming down from the thunder loud sky and drew strength from the hard winds blowing across the island. She could hear screams in the distance, rumbles that did not sound like thunder but something darker and more sinister. Fell denizens had been unleashed upon this pristine world. Miranda knew evil and she could feel its powerful breath across her skin. Sense told her she ought to turn back, get the children as far away from Tirion as possible but she could not bring herself to leave, not when Frank was in there, somewhere.

"I don't know if this is a good idea," Jason replied staring at the city before them. "It looks like a war zone."

Indeed it did. Polished white marble was blackened with heat. Walls had crumbled, struck by a malevolence that had yet to be defined. There was smoke, fire and screaming, all the ingredients of peril that should have warned them away. As they approached, the horses snorted their displeasure at having to proceed. Their heads reared unhappily and took uncertain steps forward as if attempting to convince their riders to do the same. The carriage jerked a little as the animals debated the wisdom of continuing and Miranda heard Sam clambering next to her.

"Mum, what's going on?" Sam asked.

"Sammie get in the back," Miranda ordered without looking at him, her eyes fixed ahead, "go keep your brother and Fred safe."

If there was trouble she did not want the enemy, whatever it was, to know about her children, little Fred included.

"But..." the boy started to protest.

"Now Sammie," Miranda said in a tone that would have sent Jason and Eric to the back of the carriage if they had been addressed similarly.

Sam frowned unhappily but obeyed nonetheless. He knew better than to argue with her mother when she used that particular voice.

Jason waited until the boy had retreated before he regarded the woman. Miranda Miller was perhaps the strongest woman he knew, not merely in her ability to protect herself and her children but by sheer will. Although he would never say it out loud, since it would undoubtedly result in his getting a mouthful of fist, Miranda's instinct to protect her own reminded him of the Alien Queen that had done battle with Sigourney Weaver in the Alien films. Fortunately for him, her own included the people she cared about, not merely her immediate family.

"What do you want to do?" Jason asked her quietly, certain the children were listening closely even if they were not supposed to.

Eric nudged his horse closer to the front of the carriage, interested in taking part in this particular discussion because he was uncertain about allowing his sister and her children to enter Tirion when it appeared as if the city had descended into the seventh level of hell. However, he knew Miranda well enough now to be certain that she would be unwilling to turn back, not when Frank's fate was a mystery. Not just Frank's but their friends Elladan and his family.

"We have to go find Frank," Miranda retorted firmly but even as she said it, she was weighing the full implications of that statement. Did she dare bring the children into the city? Now that she was close enough to see what sort of chaos was tearing it apart? Fred had been traumatized enough by Tory's death, did the child need to see another person in her life die? Even as Miranda thought it, she felt the surge of grief that wanted to bubble forward at the memory of Tory's lifeless body in front of her. Not now, she closed her eyes and forced the anguish away because the children needed her to be strong and she would kill anyone who tried to hurt that poor little girl again.

"Mira," Eric said leaning forward in the saddle calling her that nickname she loathed but seemed to tolerate from him only, "I think the kids should wait here. We'll both go."

Miranda's expression softened a little as she met the eyes of the Australian who entered her life less than a year ago and in some distant past been her brother. Moments like these swept aside all her skepticism about this being fact because she felt it deep in the pit of her that it was true. The sense that no matter what, he would stand by here because they shared a bond of blood no amount of time could change. However, in this instance, she could not agree with his reasoning.

"No Eric," she shook her head. "I think it's important we stay together. It's when we're apart that we're weakest." She didn't want to say that had Tory been with Bryan and all the others, the woman would not be dead. Perhaps it was unrealistic but after listening to that old codger Gandalf who delighted the children by his visits and impressive fireworks, Miranda believed there was power in their fellowship. Even if it had expanded beyond the original 'Nine Walkers'.

"Mira," he started to protest.

"I won't let us get separated," she said firmly, her voice setting in stone to prove how obdurate she would be on this subject.

Eric and Jason exchanged a resigned glance, the latter giving his best friend the look that said 'hey she's your sister', before Eric spoke again, "alright, we go together. I just want it known that if anything happens to you, Bryan will skin me alive."

"Well as long as its you," Jason quipped, trying to interject some levity into the moment. In truth, Bryan would not be skinning anyone. As it was, Jason did not know how the former MI6 man was managing to hold it together after finding the woman he loved dead by that bastard Saeran's hand. He hadn't known Tory long but Jason liked her and she deserved better than to die the way she had.

"You're a real friend," Eric gave him a look.

"Let's get going," Miranda interrupted them impatiently, more than accustomed to their bickering but on this occasion having little patience for it. With all their lives at stake, she could be no other way.

"We're going in there," Sam said quietly, peering out of the back of the carriage to see that they had resumed their journey.

"As we must," Fred replied enigmatically.

"Sam," Pip looked at his brother with an expression of concern at Fred's odd behavior.

At some point after she had been put into the carriage with them, Fred had seemed to change. She stopped crying for Tory and had gone very quiet. She hadn't said anything for the longest time, causing his older brother to grow frightfully worried as Sam often did whenever there was anything out of sorts with Fred. Pip didn't quite understand the bond his brother shared with Fred but he knew that it was important. Gandalf had tried to explain it to him but Pip was too young to understand and in the end, the old wizard had simply said that it would be clear to him one day. More than anything Pip wished Gandalf was here. The frightening things happening around them would not be so if Gandalf was present, of this Pip was convinced. In fact the old man's absence was part of the mystery taking place around them.

"It's alright Pip," Sam said squeezing his brother's hand to reassure him as he returned his attention to Fred. "We have to go there to find dad."

"I'm scared," Pip confessed, "everything is so different. What's wrong with the sky and why is it so cold?"

"I don't know," Sam said looking at Pip, unable to explain it because these were things beyond his comprehension. He knew only that the dark lord that Fred had been so afraid of was freed somehow and he had killed Tory.

"It is Sauron's revenge," Fred answered, looking at Pip. "He means to make everyone suffer, especially the elves."

"Why?" Pip answered, knowing only that the dark lord of whom Uncle Elladan had spoken about in the story about the magic ring had escaped his prison.

"Because it is the End of Days," she replied, eyes looking past them. "He is as much a slave to it as everyone else."

"I don't understand..." Pip looked at Sam hoping his older brother could explain better.

Sam looked back wearing the same bewildered expression. He had no more idea than Pip what Fred was saying and furthermore, he had the sense that she was not quite herself. Something had changed. He was not even certain that he was talking to Fred any more. She was someone else, some far older who had an insight into what was happening in Valinor Sam couldn't even begin to fathom.

"For all things to begin again," Fred said looking at both of them, a soft smile on her face. For a moment, Sam was almost reminded of the Golden Lady, Elladan's grandmother who had come to see them once. "For all things to begin, there must be an ending. The cycle of beginning and end must reach circle. All that is coming is by design, it has been shifting into its proper place for some time now. We are finally where we need to be."

"Fred," Sam swallowed, the fear so thick in his chest that it was making it hard to speak. "Is...is that you?"

Fred reached for his face, her small palm cupping his cheek. "She is here with us Sam."

"Oh my god," Eric could only exclaim as they passed through the grand archway of marble and pearl that led into the city of Tirion.

For one who had seen Sarajevo, Kosovo and Rwanda, it was required a particular kind of carnage to engender the reaction of horror that swept over him when he saw the destruction to Tirion. The destruction was almost profane. Tall majestic spires were crumbling, those that were breathed in flame. The city that had gleamed in the sunlight, its marble towers and jewel encrusted columns of ivory and pearl was now comparable to the most war torn cities of the modern world. It struck at the core of him and Eric who prided himself in being able to maintain journalistic impartiality felt the blood in his veins boil with outrage.

It had been bad from a distance but now as the horses made their way uneasily through the debris filled streets, the horror of it was mind numbing. Eric tried not to notice the stench, a stench he knew all too well to be burning flesh. One did not have to look too hard to find the bodies. If Tirion's destruction seemed profane then it has nothing in comparison to knowing those bodies belonged to elves that had lived longer than human civilization. As a writer, he could not even conceive the words to describe how it felt to see their dead corpses.

"Tell the kids to stay in the carriage," Eric ordered as he rode ahead of the carriage.

Miranda nodded and looked over her shoulder, "Sam, you have to make sure that you keep Fred and Pip in the back won't you?" She looked at her oldest who always ready to bear the responsibility for his younger sibling and now the newest possible addition to their family.

"Yes mum," Sam nodded, not about to argue because mum's face showed her worry and what worried his mum was something he ought to be mindful of.

Miranda faced front again, trying not to be affected by what she was seeing. Jason's expression was grim and his eyes was searching for some signs of what had cause this mindless destruction. So far, there was no sign of the malevolence responsible for what had been wrought in Tirion. There was only fire and debris.

"What the hell did this?" Eric demanded, looking over his shoulder. "If I didn't know better I'd say this place had been hit with artillery."

"Do they have anything that could do this?" Jason asked, "I mean do they have weapons that could cause this kind of damage?"

"No," Miranda answered before Eric could. "They wouldn't need weapons this dangerous," she met both their eyes. "Why would they?"

She had a point.

"Something did all this," Eric retorted and his concern was mounting that whatever evil was responsible for this was still in the city. "Let's get off the street as quickly as we can," he suggested. "We'll head to the library. If Frank is still in the city, that's probably where he'd be."

In truth, it was just a guess but Eric wanted them out of sight. They were out in the open for all to see and if Eric had learnt one thing since finding himself embroiled in the affairs of elves and the Valar, the things to fear were not always worldly or conventional. In a realm where magic and second sight were common place, there was no truly safe place for Hildorien's children to hide.

"Good idea," Miranda nodded, the wife and mother starting to give way to the soldier she had been. Danger often brought out that side of her and now her mind began to think of things in tactical terms and she knew that Eric had been right; they should have left the children behind before trying to enter the city.

Suddenly the walls flanking the street down which they were travelling began to shake. Something was approaching and its footsteps were causing tremors in the ground. Pieces of wall already standing precariously gave way, crumbling unto the paved streets. The horses became panicked, refusing to move any further as the tremors gave way to the sound of the thundering approach. For a moment, none of them could move. Perhaps mesmerized by the awesome horror of what was coming, they watched like moths captured by the flame as the amber light began to move across the ruined walls. Eric's mount reared up suddenly, dislodging the newsman from the saddle before it bolted down the street in the opposite direction.

"Eric!" Miranda cried out as he hit the ground hard. Without thinking, she jumped off her seat and was at his side. He sat up from the rubble covered ground , a little disorientated but no worse for wear when suddenly all notions of running or surviving the night bled out existence as the reasons for Tirion's ruin made its first appearance before them.

"What...in...the...hell...is that?" Jason gasped as he stared at the beast, almost as tall as a building with furnaces for eyes, trailing smoke and sulfur as it carried a lash made of flame.

Paralyzed with terror for possibly the second time in her life, even more so when she had first seen the Nazgul take her children, Miranda could not speak and knew instinctively what was coming at them was beyond any of them to fight.

"GET OUT OF HERE!" She fairly shrieked at Jason as she hauled Eric to his feet. "NOW!"

Her voice shocked Jason out of his temporary lapse and the young camera man nodded, snapping the reins, trying to get the horses to move. The creature paused as it put the humans in their sights and unleashed a bellowing roar of fire and rage. As Eric scrambled to his feet, with Miranda dragging him up to help matters along, they could feel the blast of heat across their skin. The horses, more than happy to depart, immediately sprinted into action as the carriage turned in the narrow street to return the way it came.

The beast, seeing the intended departure of its prey was not so eager to let them take flight and while there was time to deal with the two on foot, it took steps to ensure that carriage did not get far. Snapping the last against the wall, the force of it bringing down a hail of rubble and fire over the top of the carriage.

"JASON!" Eric shouted as he saw his best friend leap off the carriage, having no choice but to throw himself off bear the brunt of the murderous torrent of flames and debris.

The animals wailed in agony as they were incinerated, the carriage tipping on its side as they struggled to break free of their harnesses, their manes on fire. The air began to fill with the scent of burning hair and stench. Miranda did not even think. She pulled the handgun tucked in the front of Eric's pants and ran forward. All she could think of was her children. Her children who were inside that burning wreck.

Eric didn't look over his shoulder as he ran forward to help Jason as well as his sister get her children and put as much distance between that demonic monstrosity behind them. He could feel its flame on his back as he ran, walls shattering within reach of him, as the creature's lash slammed into the marble. He could hardly breathe, it was exuding smoke so thick it would have rivaled toxic waste in the real world. A column shattered in front of him and Eric barely got past the flying shards of fine marble without serious injury. Those thundering footsteps were still there, he could feel the fear twisting cold tendrils around his spine.

Jason was on his feet, adrenaline and sheer terror forcing him to move far better than anything else. While Eric did not turn to look, Jason had a full view of the monster closing in on them. He doubted that in his entire life would he be able to forget the sight of the beast that was doomed not to forever inhabit his dreams. Eyes wide, he stumbled forward as Eric grabbed his arm and forced him to move, out distancing the creature that was going to catch up far sooner than they were capable of outrunning it.

"Sammie! Pip! Fred!" Miranda shouted as she reached the carriage and pulled open the only door not burning. She could hear Pip's voice inside its confines, crying. Her babies, what had she been thinking bringing them in here?

"Mummy!" Pip answered first as the little boy scrambled out into his mother's arms.

Miranda wrapped her arms around her youngest and held him tight. "It's alright, I'm here." She said as he cried into her blond hair. "Sam! Fred!" She called out.

Sam and Fred were in better condition than Pip and emerged hurried just as Eric and Jason arrived.

"MOVE!" Eric shouted at them. There wasn't any time to linger. They were barely going to stay ahead of that thing as it was.

Eric bend down to pick Fred up but the little girl side stepped him and started walking towards the beast.

"FRED!" Sam shouted after her. The young boy would have run after her had not Jason wrapped an arm around his waist and hoisted him off the ground to stop him from advancing any further.

"What the hell?" Eric practically skidded to a halt as he turned around and saw Fred walking resolutely towards the creature.

"STOP HER!" Miranda cried out in anguish as Fred closed the precious distance they had gained between themselves and the creature.

Fred stopped and looked at the Balrog.

The beast had raised the lash about to bring it down on the child's head when suddenly, it seemed to stop short as Fred's gaze fell upon. It lowered the lash in mid air, uttering a snort of surprise that escaped its nostrils in puffs of black smoke. It took a step forward, almost cautiously before retreating again. The furnace like eyes dimming for a moment before another step backwards was taken and then another. Fearlessly, the girl stood her ground, unmoving, challenging the creature to come forward. It made the attempt once but no more than that.

It was afraid of her.

This Eric Rowan knew without understanding how it was possible. Whatever that monstrosity was, it was afraid of her, of Fred.

Slowly, despite his better judgement, Eric walked towards Fred, certain now without understanding how, that the creature was not going to risk approaching the little girl. Eric almost wished it did because he would very much like to know what it was about Fred that could scare the demon that had damn near leveled Tirion.

As if things could get no stranger, suddenly a barrage of sharp pikes flew through the air, raining death onto the beast from aloft. Looking up, Eric saw a group of elves at the top of one of the few buildings not in flames, launching a savage assault on the creature. The beast howled in pain as the elven blessed spikes plunged into its flesh. It retreated up the way it came and suddenly was confronted by another group of elves, clad in gleaming armor carrying long shields that almost guarded their whole bodies from the flame it roared in their direction.

As the creature became assailed by the elves that were determined to end the threat of it, Eric scooped Fred in his arms and hurried away from the fighting.

"You okay sweetheart?" He asked her even though it was most likely they were still breathing because of Fred.

"Yes," she nodded, her dark hair bouncing off her shoulders as she nodded. "I am not harmed."

"I noticed," he replied carrying her back to Miranda and the others. "Want to tell me how you managed that?"

"All things as they unfold," she looked at him with eyes not belonging to an eight year old but someone far older.

It was by far the strangest thing Eric had so far seen on this shores.

"Are you going to stand there and wait for the beast to return?" A new voice declared, emerging through the smoke as the elves did battle with the demon. Arrows and pikes flew through billowing smoke and fires and losses were mounting on either side with elves dying where they stood and the creature taking substantial injuries.

"Glorifindel...isn't it?" Eric asked, having seen the elven lord but having never been formally introduced. Eric had seen him in Elrond's company and new that he was respected as a great warrior and guessed that it was he who had been leading the battle against the creature.

"I am," the balrog slayer nodded. "You have come in search of Frank."

"Yes," Miranda said hurrying to them, the mention of Frank's name jerking her forward like a puppet on a string. "Where is he?"

"He is safe," Glorifindel said quickly. "But we are emptying the city until the balrog is dealt with so you must hurry if you wish to find him. I do not know how long he will remain at Elrond's house."

"He is Elrond's?" Miranda grasped immediately, letting out a sigh of relief at knowing he was safe. After seeing what was rampaging through these streets, finding all those dead bodies, Miranda had began to entertain her worst fears regarding her husband's state of health.

"Yes, my lady," Glorifindel nodded and then looked over his shoulder as the balrog lashed out again, the great whip striking another marble wall and crumbling it as more elves encircled the creature like hunters surrounding a bear, reading for slaughter. "Now you must go," he said to all of them, "we have work to do here."

Miranda was not about to argue with the elf that more than sounded like he knew what he was doing. "Good luck," she said sincerely.

"And with you my lady," he bowed his head graciously at her unsheathing the sword that seemed to gleam in the light of the fires scattered around the city. Sweeping his gaze to the others in a look of farewell, Glorifindel joined his men as they did battle with the demon plaguing Tirion.

Eric waited until he had gone before turning to address the others.

"If Frank's at Elrond's, let's get there," the newsman urged them to get moving again. It was tempting to watch Glorifindel and his warriors doing battle with the monster but having escaped its clutches once tonight and he was still trying to figure out how, Eric was in no hurry to do so again if the things went badly for the elves.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Jason said holding Sam's hand. "You okay mate?" He looked down at Sam who had been just as mesmerized by everything that had transpired in the last hour.

Sam nodded, "I'm okay Jason." He smiled.

"That's my boy," Miranda said to her son affectionately as she ruffled his hair while still carrying Pip in her arms that wasn't about to let go of his mother's embrace. "Fred, are you alright?" She looked at the little girl in her brother's arms as they started moving up the street towards Elrond's home.

"I am unharmed," Fred answered Miranda with a somber expression.

The adults exchanged a glance, sharing the strange feeling that it wasn't Fred who amongst them.

It was easy to become complacent when one was accustomed to the controlled environment of submarine's interior with its temperature regulated and only the clocks on the walls to indicate the passage of the day. Through the periscope, the thick iron shell of the USS Connecticut protected them from the seascape of gray sky and treacherously choppy wave. Therefore it was quite a shock when Isaiah and his men emerged from the interior of the USS Connecticut into the cold, dismal weather of the Norwegian Basin.

The wind he had been able to see by the slanted drops of rain pelting against the periscope glass was hard and brittle making him cringe further into the flap jacket he was wearing. Pulling the brim of his hat lower over his eyes in an effort to shield himself from the spitting rain, Isaiah felt the icy cold temperature with each breath he took. With him, Isaiah noticed Purcelli hugging his arms closer to his body while he and Devereaux worked the oars to bring the small craft closer to the shore, further away from the Connecticut which had safely put into the island's natural deep water harbor.

However before the Connecticut had sailed into the bay, sonar and seismic equipment had allowed the Seawolf submarine to discover a chain of smaller isles preceding the landmass. Framing it almost like a shield, the gathering of islets protected the mainland from the harsh winds and inclement weather that scoured rest of the Norwegian basin. It was a simple matter to navigate through the reef like islands to enter the bay and as they pierced the links of the chain, discovered yet another isle cradled against the contours of the mainland. Lighthouses could be seen atop of cliff faces, an island vanguard against the ocean. They stood, as beacons to travelers choosing to visit although they looked nothing like what he would thought a lighthouse should to be. If not for their strategic location, he could have been forgiven for mistaking them as something else.

Like great sculptures against the backdrop of the dismal sky.

Polished marble statues that towered high, shaped by masons with more skill than any Isaiah had ever seen after a lifetime of travel, proudly welcomed visitors to this unusual shore. The beauty of it had been too much for Isaiah to deny his men and the sub had surfaced long enough for a good number of crew to brave the terrible weather to catch a brief glimpse of these magnificent constructs. A feeling of wonder was sweeping through his boat and it was quite conceivable for a short time, the crew forgot that they were soldiers in a weapon of war. For a time, as they passed the statues of seemingly ancient warriors, perhaps even kings with outstretch palms holding the flame that would draw ships to safe port, the crew of the Connecticut felt like explorers.

Isaiah kept thinking of the Colossus of Rhodes and the Statue of Liberty and the Connecticut sailed into what they would know later as the Bay of Eldamar, the mystery of this island seemed to be as deep as the waters the submarine was currently navigating. Isaiah had ordered a message sent to Norfolk, informing the powers that be of what was transpiring out here and as anticipated, they were just as baffled by the existence of the landmass as he had been. Although not customarily required, Norfolk had asked the Connecticut to investigate and determine the nature of their discovery.

Isaiah had an odd feeling that whatever he discovered here would not be something that naval intelligence was going to be swallow easily. This island was a mystery not only to be him but possibly to all of mankind.

Leaving the Connecticut, Isaiah felt strangely vulnerable as if he wasn't just leaving his boat, the domain he ran with supreme authority, but taking a step into a great unknown. There had been no short of volunteers to accompany him to shore however, Isaiah had opted to take his Exec and Master of Arms because they were men he trusted to keep their heads no matter what the situation. Nevertheless, the desire to leave the Connecticut was shared by most of his crew as word traveled quickly through a boat that they might have just discovered a new civilization, no matter how preposterous it may sound.

"We have company," Bryan Miller stated as he stood on the edge of the tree line where forest and beach met.

He had taken a moment to himself because it was harder than he could possibly imagine, keeping himself together knowing that the only woman who ever meant anything to him was gone. He had compartmentalized his anguish, praying that it was enough. Each time the despair rose up inside him, Bryan had crushed it ruthlessly but it was becoming harder and harder to maintain that facade of indifference. He had been strong for Aaron, telling the doctor that there was hope left while Eve still lived but inside he had been screaming at the unfairness of it. Tory deserved the same hope.

Not this great emptiness that was devouring him from inside out.

"Company?" Elrohir who had been keeping close eye on the former son of Gondor immediately turned to him and strode across the wet grass to his side.

Bryan had expected Valinor to be discovered by global positioning satellites at some point but certainly not this soon. At first Bryan had been uncertain of what he had been seeing. The wind had turned the waters of the normally tranquil bay into a troubled sea with waves that seemed to smash against the shore instead of rolling languidly across the white sand. Thus the break in the water had not seemed all that unusual until the dark shadow had broke what passed for surface tension and rose out of sea in a construct of dark steel that could be non other than a product of 21st century technology.

Elrohir's statement had captured the attention of Aaron, Legolas and Ariel. The elven prince had been in the process of wrapping his wife in a thick cloak to shield her wet skin from the icy temperatures. Despite possessing an elven constitution, Ariel had no experience with weather like this. From the day she had been born, she had known only days of sunshine and warmth. Such was the blessing of the Valar upon this land. Legolas was rubbing his hand up and down her sides, trying to create the friction needed to generate warmth. Her wet clothes did not make this task any easier and he knew that if he did not take her indoors, she would take ill. As it was, he too was feeling the cold terribly but he thought little of himself and only of her.

"What company do you speak of?" He asked, looking over his shoulder as Aaron joined Bryan and Elrohir.

"Looks like the Yanks have landed," Bryan retorted, pointing to the rubber inflatable that was steadily making its way across the sea towards the shore.

"What manner of beast is that?" Elrohir asked, his keen eyes catching sight of the metal leviathan that was floating in the middle of the bay, its dark crown protruding from the turbulent sea.

"Aw hell," Aaron exclaimed as his mind grasped what Elrohir's 'beast' immediately. "Is that what I think it is?"

"I'd say so," Bryan nodded somewhat subdued. "That's a submarine."

"A what?" Elrohir looked at him in confusion.

"A ship that travels under water," Aaron responded.

"Boat," Bryan reminded gently, "you call them boats."

"Beneath the waves? Truly?" The elf stared straight ahead again; marveling at the notion of traveling across the sea completely submerged. Man had truly exploited every manner in which one could travel from place to place in his world, the elf thought. Elrohir had been astonished enough when he and his brother had returned from Arda in the 'airplane' that had crashed so spectacularly on Valinor.

Bryan left out the part that the 'beast' was also carrying a complement of nuclear warheads. There was no reason to worry the elves unnecessarily when it was most likely that the three men paddling their inflatable boat towards the surf had done so because the island had probably just turned up on their chart. If they had thought that the island was a threat, they would have sent more than three people to investigate it. No doubt, the commander of that boat was without any clue how this island had suddenly materialized out of nowhere and was trying to determine the nature of it before reporting to naval intelligence.

"What are we to do?" Legolas asked as he came up along side Bryan and stared at the unfolding situation. "Should we stop them?"

"No," Bryan shook his head, "I don't think they're here to cause trouble. I think its more likely they were doing a normal patrol of the area and suddenly caught sight of a bloody big island where there isn't supposed to be one."

"We can't let them wander loose around here," Aaron declared as the boat started surging over the tide as it closed the distance.

"No we can't," Bryan let out a deep sigh of weariness. So much relied on his judgement. The outside world was encroaching fast upon Valinor and he and Aaron were the only ones who knew how to deal with it.

"Legolas," Bryan looked at the elf. "You should take Ariel to the house, get her warmed up. She can use some of Tory's clothes, she won't..." he faltered then, the grief rushing up at him for a renewed assault even with a brief memory of her. "She won't mind." His voice grew soft and somewhere in the haze of agony where he was forcing away the sorrow he felt, Bryan was conscious of Elrohir's hand squeezing his arm.

"Thank you Bryan," Ariel said gratefully, "however I wish to remain." Inwardly, she knew Legolas wished to remain with his friends and she would not be the reason why he was forced to leave them.

"It's not safe here for you to remain here," Legolas insisted, agreeing with Bryan that she should be taken from this cold before she became ill.

"It is not safe to be alone either," Ariel countered. "Eve and I were no safer when we as such. Under the circumstances, I would prefer to remain in the company of our friends." She looked into his eyes and showed her resolve on this matter.

"Ariel..." Legolas protested but it was half hearted. He could see Aaron flinching at those words because Ariel was correct. It did not matter whether they were safely hidden away. If the enemy meant to find them, they would. On such occasions it was best to be in the company of one's friends than alone. Perhaps if Tory and Miranda had not been on the coast alone, Tory might still be amongst them. As he thought that, the elf raised his gaze to see Bryan closing his eyes in reaction to his lady's words and for an instance, it seemed as if the Man was steadying the carefully erected walls of control around his grief.

"She's right," he said quietly. "Do you think you can manage with the cold?"

"I will do my best," Ariel returned proudly, chin raised as she spoke, issuing Legolas a glance to silence any protest he might rise to this end.

"I'm sure you will," Bryan gave her a little smile but there was no joy in it, just sadness. Ariel felt her heart go to this man with his haunted eyes and wished that Eru had been kinder to him.

"They're reached the shore," Elrohir pointed out, bringing their attention to the matter at hand.

Indeed even as he spoke, Aaron turned to the usually pristine beach and saw the rubber inflatable wash up onto the sand, its occupants preparing to climb out. If there were any doubt that Valinor now found itself in the real world, it was the sight of the familiar naval uniforms worn by the three men who were presently disembarking from their tiny craft onto the shores of Eldamar. The modern world had well and truly encroached onto the sacred borders of the Undying Land and this was never clearer than the sight of the submarine that was presently waiting in the depths of the bay while its masters explored the new island.

"Well then, we'd better get to it," Bryan said releasing a heavy sigh because this was just one other task he needed to do, another little distraction he was prepared to indulge in order to stave away the anguish ready to crush him in its maw. Tory, he thought silently as he braced his inner defenses once more. Oh god Tory.

"Bryan..." Aaron started to call the man. The psychiatrist in him could see how tenuous Bryan's hold was on his emotions but there was no repertoire of tricks that Aaron knew that could help the man through this. He knew all too well what Bryan was facing and feared that if they did not reach Eve in time then he might be facing the same horror.

"I'm fine," Bryan said abruptly and started walking, waving off the query dismissively, looking at none of them.

Elrohir exchanged a worried look with his brother in law before following the Son of Gondor to deal with the newest arrivals on Valinor's once fair shores.

**LOCH NESS**

The weather was bloody awful.

It was cold and miserable day and Janice Keely had no idea why on Earth she was out at this hour of the morning. Hugging her arms closer to her body, she wished she had worn something warmer and then remembered why she had opted for the blue cardigan when she ought to have worn the red parka that would keep the icy chill of the morning from her skin. The blue cardigan looked better on her than the bulky parka and when a sixteen-year-old was attempting to impress a boy, there was no contest between being a little cold and looking good.

Nessie watching. Who believed that nonsense? It seemed like one of those things that seemed plausible only to the tourists who came to the Loch each year to catch sight of the lake's most famous native. Janice had never bought into the existence of Nessie even though the people around the Loch had exploited the stories into a thriving tourist industry. Her parents who owned a boating business made good money from renting out small craft to would be monster catchers who came with their expensive clothes and high powered photography equipment, hoping to catch sight of Nessie.

Fortunately, the old girl had proved too smart for the likes of them.

"You do this every day?" Janice asked of Doug Palmer, the young lad she had been trying so hard to impress by coming out with him here today. She had never expected to him to have this kind of interest when he was the most popular soccer player in school. He was certain to play for the big clubs like Manchester United, if the descriptions of his game were the truth and not hyperbole spoken to stroke his ego. Janice had spoken to him once or twice in the halls and when she learnt that he made morning forays out here before school day began, saw an opportunity to get to know him better.

"Yeah," he nodded, looking at the strawberry blonde and wondering what she was doing out here in this weather with such ridiculous clothes. She'd catch her death of cold if she didn't watch out, he thought. "I think its peaceful out here and who knows maybe I'll catch sight of her."

"Do you really think she's there?" Janice asked, walking alongside of him as he kept his vigil with his camera in his favorite spot.

In truth, Doug Palmer told people he was monster watching so he'd be left alone. Most people thought it to be such an odd pastime that they did not wish to have any part of it and Doug was afforded some much needed quiet time that did not involve his school mates, his soccer team or his six brothers and sisters at home. His life was one constant lot of noise after another and being out here gave him a much needed silence.

At least until today.

"I think so," he responded and surprised himself by actually meaning it. Yes, she was here somewhere. Whether or not anyone had actually seen her was debatable but Nessie was here. Doug could feel it.

"What do you think she is then?" The girl asked again. "Do you think its like those scientist say? That she's a dinosaur?"

"A plesiosaur I think you're talking about," he returned, watching the rippling water, thinking how peaceful and tranquil it looked under the morning sun. "Maybe," he said after a moment. "They say there's caves underneath the loch that may have pockets of air where a beastie like that might be. Who knows."

Suddenly, something caught his attention. It was little more than an indescribable splash of water but it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end for some peculiar reason. Maybe because it was such an unfamiliar sound for this hour of the morning. Out of place almost. He was used to gentle sounds produced at this time of the day, swirling ripples of water like a babbling brook with not much to say. It was certainly different from the harsh splash of something he could not identify.

He stood up from where he had been bent over at the edge of the water, with camera in hand and looked into the lake, trying see where it had come from.

"What is it?" The girl interrupted.

"I don't know," he said straightening up, his back taut with tension as he caught sight of it. Something was moving and at first he thought it was a fish swimming too close to the surface but made up his mind quickly that it wasn't, it moved too oddly. An eel perhaps? Doug watched for a moment, trying to make out its shape through the murky water.

"Maybe you should step away from the edge," Janice said starting to get anxious. Nessie wasn't real she told herself but she couldn't deny the stories were getting to her.

"What do you think is going to happen?" He looked at her derisively. "Nessie's going to come get me?"

Something smashed out of the water with lightening quick reflexes, wrapping itself around his leg in one fluid movement. Doug had just enough time to register the cold, wet around his ankle before he was swept off his feet. Hoisted above the ground, he let out a short cry of fear as he saw the ground beneath him and air around his flaying arms. The girl Janice had started to scream, her eyes wide with terror.

He blinked once or twice, looked at the thing around his foot and saw that it was a tentacle, a tentacle that followed all the way down to a creature starting to surface in the dark water. He saw its slimy body, slick and gleaming with moisture, like black marble. There were other limbs snaking towards the edge and he saw Janice starting to retreat, screaming as she tried to put distance between herself and the beast that was inching its way towards the edge. She didn't get very far when he saw another tentacle snap forward like elastic, moving impossibly fast to wrap itself around her waist.

Janice's screams echoed throughout the loch, causing birds to break roost from their branches and take flight. Absurdly as he screamed his own terror, he could hear beating wings in his ears and thought that they were of some comfort. Dangling above the air, he tried desperately to reach the appendage that held on to his foot in a vise like grip. The thing began to shake them, perhaps sensing the attempts to escape. Doug felt his bones snapping like he was tied to a whip.

Then he saw the teeth and all sense left him.

Widening jaws opened, teeth as long as his arm waited for their feast and while he became numb with terror, Janice screams had become mindless shrieks of terror. Perhaps irritated by the noise, Doug watched as Janice was released and she fell screaming wildly into the maw of the beast. There was another blood curdling cry when those jaws snapped close, ejecting blood and flesh in all directions before Janice uttered no more sound.

What remained of his sanity lingered long enough for Doug Palmer who would have turned eighteen next month, to realize that he would never play for Manchester United.

****

SOMEWHERE....

"It is beginning," the younger said to the Old One.

"I can see that," he said stroking his thick silver beard, looking at the youth with so much impatience. "They have heard him call. They will be waking up wherever they are to join with him."

"We should go now," the younger repeated, hand stroking the smooth finish of the machine he had help to construct.

It was a thing of beauty, crafted from the finest metal that was known to exist. Even in the dim light of the cavern, it gleamed, created its own illumination and the younger smiled with pleasure knowing that at last, the time had come for both of them to see the sunlight. "It will take us days to burrow to the surface and too many of the devices had yet to be tested."

"You sound like one of THEM," the Old One pointed out.

"We have learnt much from them," the younger replied, not all sorry for this. "Perhaps it is time that they learnt something from us."

The Old One looked at him skeptically.

"Well it could not hurt," the younger snorted. "They've made a proper mess of things up there and that they're still alive is a miracle. Perhaps if they had learnt what we had to teach them, things wouldn't have turned out the way it has."

"It was the decision of the Elders that we took the course we did," the Old One stared at him. "Do you refute their wisdom?"

Not ready to re-ignite that particular debate, the younger conceded defeat for now, "no I do not but I still think we should be on our way. They will need our help. They have no idea what's coming at them."

"We will wait for just a little longer," the Old One replied, aware that this would cause more consternation for the younger and smiled in bemusement at the outburst to come.

"I give up," the younger groaned. "If you need me, you know where to find me."

With that he trudged up the ramp and disappeared into the belly of his creation, there to wait until permission was given.

The Old One watched as the younger drew away grumbling and sighed. The children of Durin's line were always so impatient.

**BACK TO MAIN PAGE**


	7. Chapter Six

****

Chapter Six:

Letting the Dice Fly

The flotilla of ships crossed the vast ocean swiftly, propelled across the waves by an unholy wind.

Sauron, once Lord of Mordor, now David Saeran of Malcolm Industries stood at the bow of the grey ship he had claimed for himself and watched the distance between himself and land close in with each passing moment. Even though there was nothing but sea in the horizon, Saeran could see the shore that he would be soon stepping upon. He could see it like the minions that were awakening throughout the world, waiting to rally to his side in one last battle. It did not matter to Saeran the outcome of this conflict. It was a strange thing to admit but it was the truth, as much as he was capable of experiencing the emotion.

This was about showing everyone who he was.

Not the pathetic servant of Aule, not the dark enforcer of Melkor's will or the Ring lord who put all his faith in a trinket of gold but rather himself to the core, stripped of all titles. Sauron who had lifted himself to become more than just another Maiar spirit, that despite his defeats had left an impression that not even the Valar would be able to dismiss. He was always better than them even if fate had made him weaker. However, his lack of power had never been an obstacle. He had got this far on wit alone and before the end, whether it be for himself or the enemy, they would know it.

They would know that will and intelligence could push even a spirit to become greater than a god.

The dragons were still aloft above the flotilla although Sauron could feel their impatience at having to remain tethered to their seagoing brothers. They longed to surge ahead and reach land, to see Arda once again and feast on the sweetness of human meat once again. With their keen senses, they could smell the banquet awaiting them once they reached land and only his command over them kept this basic appetite from overcoming their actions entirely. The watchers were the same, some had scattered into the vast ocean but most were remaining close. There was far too much temptation in the water for them to remain restrained. Already, whales and dolphins had made for tasty bounty.

There was much to do once they reached the shores of the Angel Isle, Saeran thought as he saw the waves rushing past the vessel. His new power had far reaching consequences in that it could be felt spreading it ugly tendrils throughout the shadow world, giving life to creatures that had become inert from years of his absence. His army was stirring across the globe. Beyond the watchers that were accompanying the grey ships to Arda, there were those who had remained for so long in the dark places of the world, waiting for the right time to emerge. With his coming, they were awakening at last to brave the light once more. As he looked skyward, he saw the Urloki giving in to their urges at long last. They surged on ahead, eager for the taste of new riches to hoard like bower birds with shiny toys.

By the time he reached his destination, the Nine would also have been restored with power in a way they had not been since the War of the Ring. He would send them out, leading armies of newly birthed Uruks and the all the fell beasts that still that would answer his dark call. This time there was no ring to bring about his downfall and those who sought to destroy him would have to do it face to face. This time, he would be no disembodied eye relying on others to do his fighting. If the enemy wanted to destroy him they would have to contend with him alone. He knew that Aaron Stone would be coming. Isildur's reincarnated heir would cross a thousand oceans to reach his woman and when he was within sight of her, Saeran would show him how much she no longer belonged to him.

Revenge could be such a sweet morsel.

This had to be hell or at least by Eve McCaughley's definition, her version of it.

Trapped on the ship, her guards watched her cautiously and it was all Eve could do to keep from screaming. Fat, plump bodies rested on the wooden floors of the cabin she had been locked in. Poised on arachnid legs with mandibles clenching like fists as their compound eyes continued ensured that their master's prize did not give him any cause for trouble. Eve had never liked spiders. In fact if asked, she would have readily admitted she suffered from a rather annoying case of arachnophobia. Therefore, being forced to share a cabin with versions of the foul insect that were the size of large dogs, was enough to threaten her sanity. With her back to the wall on the bed she was sitting on, Eve stared at them with wide eyed terror and yet her fear was such that it wouldn't let her take her eyes away from them even for a second.

She had no weapon, nothing to fight with if they chose to attack and their mandibles wet with ooze, seemed watering for a taste of flesh, held back only by their masters' orders. She was shaking so badly that she was almost starting to fear what effect this would have on her baby and the thought of her child made her want to weep a new. She had woken up to these nightmares and had screamed herself hoarse for anyone to come to her aid. Throughout her life, Eve had prided herself in her ability to maintain her calm no matter what the situation. She had been a New York City cop and after stumbling onto John Malcolm and the world that had given birth to him, Eve had thought she had seen everything.

At this moment, she would have been grateful if Saeran had made an appearance.

The things did not move as they continued their surveillance. They just watched with their blood red eyes, thinking indifferent thoughts that Eve could not even begin to fathom but was certain had something to do with devouring her. She remembered how terrified she had been when they had been under the earth in Romania, surrounded by a horde of these things but that was nothing in comparison to the mind numbing fear she now felt. It was torture without ever marking the skin. She sat on the bed, hugging her knees under her chin, not daring to close her eyes.

In this state, Eve remained trapped very effectively within her prison, able to see through the portal of the cabin and knowing that Valinor was no longer in horizon. The ship was making good time, she could tell by the winds outside and the undulating motion of the deck above the waves. She thought about Aaron and the others. She thought of Saeran's claim that he had killed one of them already. Who? Whose life had he taken? It could not be Aaron's. Saeran would not have been able to contain his pride if that were the case. The question haunted Eve on the rare moments she could forget she was sharing a cabin with two great spiders.

Suddenly the door swung open and Eve, already anxious and afraid, felt herself jump. David Saeran stepped in, a little smile formed on his face after he surveyed the situation. His eyes narrowed in calculation as he realized the paleness of her skin was not due to her captivity but to her jailors. It surprised the Lord of Mordor in that he who had always used fear to such extremes had managed to reduce this woman to near hysteria without even intending to do so.

"Leave." He said simply.

That was all that was needed, an order from him and she saw them lift up those, sickeningly plump bodies and shuffled through the open door. The hard points of their legs, scraping against the wood caused another shudder to run through her body. When they left the room, Eve allowed herself a loud gasp, expelling the tension and cold fear she had been forced to endure the last few hours since waking up and finding those things in front of her.

A hand touched her hair and she looked up at him, surprised. Saeran was standing over her, a gentle palm brushing the dark strands of her hair, his expression was unreadable as he looked at her. "I'm sorry, I did not know." There was almost tenderness in his voice.

"Know what?" she snatched herself out of his reach by shrinking away.

"They're good guards," he indicated the spiders that had departed. "I had no idea that you feared them so much."

"What do you care?" She said hoarsely, off balanced by this show of concern.

"You are so beautiful," he looked at her, soaked in her features, so much like Thingol's daughter who had sung her song to her human lover. The whole of Tol Sirion had been lost in that voice. He had been no different. Saeran knew that when he took Eve from Valinor, it was not merely for his vengeance against Aaron Stone but because deep in the core of him, exacerbated by the human shell he was forced to wear, was a need for her he had not recognized until he saw her face the first time. He failed in his opportunity to capture Luthien so long ago. It was not a mistake he intended to repeat again.

"What do you want from me?" She said through gritted teeth, her hatred for him burning like the heat of a thousand suns.

"I do not know," Saeran answered and surprised himself by the honesty of that mission. "You look so much like her." He confessed.

"I'm not Luthien," Eve declared, "I'm not even Arwen. You see resonance of what was, this, me, is who I am. I can never be either of them."

"Perhaps not," he replied, closing his eyes for a moment and remembering that vision of perfection that had stood before the Tol Sirion and sang her song. Its beauty had touched the heart of even one as such as he and in the place where even dark lords dreamed, he still heard her voice. "But it amuses me that you are mine because it means he will not have you."

"I will never be yours!" Eve shouted angrily. "I'd sooner die first."

"Oh that is an inevitability for certain," he looked at her coldly, his ire raised because her declaration had dissipated the vision in his mind of her earlier self. "However, how you chose to walk out of this life is entirely up to you. Do not doubt me when I say I could make those years stretch into an eternity. What you experienced in the last few hours will be pale in comparison."

Eve felt silent and knew that she was beaten.

"What about my baby?" She dared to ask.

"I do not know," Saeran stood up but it was a lie. He did know. He knew perfectly well what purpose that babe would have. Life slumbering in the womb, weak and helpless. It was a boy. He knew it even if she did not. A son, a child of Isildur's line. The possibilities for vengeance were too delicious to ignore. "However," he leaned forward so she understood this clearly, "if you run from me. If you attempt to harm yourself, the minute he slides out of your body, wet and bloody, I will feed him to your jailers. Do we understand each other?"

The horror of it was beyond Eve, she doubled over and retched. Digestive fluids escaped her onto the wooden floor, acid burning her throat as she heaved. "You...wouldn't..." she gasped as she gagged. "You couldn't..."

"I have done far worse things in my time my dear than make a meal of an infant, this course I take I sense has been destined for me. I know it," he said looking at her dispassionately. "Fortunately, I know there is no hell waiting for me and even if there were, I would have been the one to breathe life into it. Don't assume anything. I may wear a human shell but I carry none of its weaknesses. I need nothing from you. However," he said glancing at the door, "I trust you will behave yourself while you're on board?"

"Do I have a choice?" She bit back. "You've threatened my child."

A surge of anger filled him because it was more than obedience that he wanted from her. Unfortunately, the feeling was so new and alien that it stung and he reacted in kind.

Staring at her, he said nothing at first and Eve was about to question what he was doing when suddenly she felt something tickling against her skin. She looked down and saw spider crawling up her arm. She let out a startled cry and then saw more on her shirt, on the bed, in her hair. She could feel spindly legs crawling against her scalp, mandibles biting at her flesh, their cold bodies skittering across her skin. Eve let out another horrified scream, practically falling off the bed in an effort to rid herself off the accursed things. Legs scratching against her lips, crawling over her brow, nesting in her dark hair, the sensation almost made her gag.

Eve fell on the ground screaming, clawing at her skin, too afraid to scream in case the foul thing crept into her open mouth when suddenly, just as suddenly as they appeared, the tiny arachnids disappeared again. She stopped struggling with a start, shaking still as the memory remained fresh in her mind. She looked around her with wide-eyed terror and saw none of the things. She and Saeran were the only living creatures in the room.

"I know what frightens you my dear," Saeran said leaning over and offering Eve his hand. "I don't need guards or threats to ensure you will obey. Make any attempt to leave and you will spend every waking moment of your life with what you just saw."

"Go to hell," Eve spat but she was defeated and she knew it. He was right. He did know what frightened her and as he had just proved, he was not above using it.

"Not before you go there a thousand times first," he said with a little smile. "Now," he looked at her. "I'm going out onto the deck. You will join me."

Eve wanted to refuse but she had no choice, she was trapped and at the very least, he would drive her insane if she did not obey. At the worst, he would make good on his threat and harm her baby. Either way it was no choice at all.

Swallowing thickly the lump in her throat, Eve replied, each word leaving her lips bitterly.

"Yes," she nodded. "I will join you."

There was a white rabbit at the end of all this, Isaiah was certain.

However, Alice's little nirvana was not quite so dismal. Howling winds whipped at their exposed faces despite fruitless attempt to shield themselves with upturned collars. The wind brought with it spitting rain that felt like needles against the skin. Standing on a long stretch of beach that Isaiah was certain would have been pristine in better weather; he saw angry waves charging furiously up the shore before the surf held the line back again. Looking over his shoulder, Isaiah was comforted by the sight of the Connecticut waiting patiently in the deep bay while they continued their exploration of the New World.

They had chosen their landing site near what appeared to be settlements and even from this beach, he could see buildings as well as ramps for boats leading into the water. The number of well-worn grooves pooling with water indicated that quite a bit of shipbuilding took place on this island. However, the design of these buildings was like nothing Isaiah could even begin to recognize. A career navy man, he had traveled across the globe and not once had he seen anything comparable to the artistic beauty of this land's architecture. It reminded him of something built by the ancients; something that would remain beautiful and remembered, long after the race that built it disappeared into the mists.

"Fuck me Captain," Purcelli whistled at the sight of the structures. "Where the hell are we?"

"I don't know," Isaiah replied and started walking towards the coastal settlements. "Come on Purcelli, there's only one way to find out."

"Sir," his master at arms, Lt. Turpin called out, "look!"

Following Turpin's gaze and the hand pointing them from the beach into the landscape beyond the shore, Isaiah saw a group of people approaching. He noticed long hair swaying in the wind and surmised from what little he could see at that distance that there were both men and women in the company approaching them. Purcelli and Turpin reached for their sidearm, their shoulders squaring off as if preparing for an attack as it was the way with military men.

"At ease," Isaiah ordered. Their stance was making the rest of the landing party nervous and the last thing the captain of the Connecticut wanted was a firefight.

"Captain, we don't know anything about them," Purcelli insisted. "They could be hostile."

"What are you on fucking Star Trek?" Isaiah barked, "I said stand down." He shot his first officer a look that told Purcelli that the next time he had to repeat himself, the First Mate of the Connecticut would find himself brigged and shot.

If he was in a good mood.

Properly chastised, Purcelli retreated first and Turpin was smart enough to obey before the Captain took a bite out of his ass too.

"Look," Isaiah said quickly, "there's something about this place that's not quite kosher. Trust an ol' sea dog on this when I say that I don't think the conventional approach is going to work out here. The first impression these people have of us should be of the US Navy waving guns in their faces on their own soil."

In truth, Isaiah did not have to explain one damn thing to any of the landing party but these men had served with him long enough to deserve one. Purcelli in particular. Isaiah met the First Officer's gaze, offering him a conciliatory look, which Purcelli took with a slight nod of acknowledgement. Holstering his weapon, he waited for his Captain's lead.

Isaiah started across the beach, his men following him automatically without his needing to give further instructions. He made his way across the sandy shore, intending to meet the people approaching and hopefully getting some answers as to how in the hell this island had suddenly just appeared. However, as he approached them, the lack of definition caused by rain and wind dissipated enough to allow him a clear look at them. The group was made up on men and only one woman he realised and while two of the men appeared to be perfectly normal specimens of the twentieth century, the same could not be said for their companions.

It was like something out of a fairy tale and even as the thought raced across his mind, Isaiah flinched at how ludicrous it sounded. However, there was no other description that would fit. Dressed in clothes that seemed almost medieval, they seemed as if they had stepped more than just out of another time but possibly an entirely different world from the one he knew. There was nothing hard or coarse about them, no awkwardness or evidence of struggle that had carried man through most of their history. They seemed almost graceful and yet masculine nonetheless. These were men but not by any definition Isaiah had ever known. And the woman...

Even with hair plastered to her pale skin, her dress clinging to her body in saturated sheets, she was beautiful in a way that transcended all modern descriptions of the word. It was like seeing a rose covered in morning dew. Something inside him shifted slightly, mesmerized by these beings, almost luminescent in their beauty even when surrounded by grey and troubled weather.

For a moment he thought he saw something in the manner, something that immediately made him balk at the absurdity of it all. Yet it still remained in memory nonetheless.

The memory of starlight.

The Yanks were getting nervous. This much Bryan could tell as he approached. The Captain was studying Legolas and the twins with close scrutiny, no doubt noticing the same difference that both Aaron and himself had noticed the first time they had encountered the elves. Bryan tried to think of what to say to the man, how to explain that suddenly, there was an island in the middle of the ocean that no one had ever seen before. How did that make sense to a mariner who's probably traveled these shores all his life?

"Be careful," Bryan said to Aaron and the others as they neared the strangers. "These are soldiers and they're probably blood nervous as it is."

"Nervous?" Ariel looked at Boromir's reincarnation. "We are no threat to them."

"They don't know that," Aaron explained to Legolas' wife who had no experience with the men of the modern world save the ones who had come to the shores of Valinor in recent years. "If I had to venture a guess, they're probably a little confused on how this island suddenly appeared on their scopes."

"Their what?" Elrohir looked at his brother-in-law with a raised brow.

"Nevermind," Aaron said dismissive, knowing it would take a long to explain even if he understood the first thing about submarine sonar.

"Shut it!" Bryan hissed as they got closer. Bryan was armed but he had no wish to have their conversation end up in a gunfight, now when the best chance of going after Saeran was to hitch a ride in their submarine.

"You turn a lovely phrase Bryan," Legolas remarked dryly.

Bryan threw him a look and held his hands up at chest level in a gesture of good faith that he did not intend harm. "Good day lads," Bryan said casually.

Aaron allowed Bryan do the talking as the man knew soldiers better than a New York psychiatrist ever could and at this stage, he was willing to submit to anything that permitted them to go after Eve and rescue her from Saeran's clutches. If they needed these men to do it then Aaron was more than willing to crawl on his belly to ensure that they had every reason to provide assistance. He could understand why Bryan was eager to handle the discourse between the two groups. The elves had been through enough today and even the patience of immortals could be tested after the mischief that had been unleashed on Valinor since Saeran's escape, to say nothing of what Eve was probably enduring in Saeran's clutches. If Bryan's efforts to diffuse the situation help matters along than Aaron was eager to assist in any way he could.

"Hello," the submarine captain greeted in response, a clearly suspicious look on his face as he regarded them. "Who are you people and where is this place?" He demanded, wasting no time in revealing what was on his mind.

Bryan was certain by his taut delivery that the question of identity was directed primarily at the elves but he was nevertheless eager to side step the issues of elves and Middle earth for the moment.

"This is Valinor," Bryan answered, aware that the name would make little sense to the American. "The home of these people," he regarded Legolas and the other elves.

"What?" One of navy men exclaimed. "Valinor? What the fuck does that mean?"

Bryan saw Elrohir's back straightening in annoyance. The elf had been in the modern world long enough to recognise the discourtesy of using that particular word especially in front of Ariel.

"Lt. Turpin shut up," the captain growled. "I apologise for his conduct," the man said quickly, before the offence was allowed to escalate into something worse. "However, you have to understand that we're in something of a state of shock."

"As I," Legolas muttered under his breath as he stared at the leader of the new arrivals. He almost smiled but held it under an expression of bemusement. Eru did enjoy his little jokes, the former Prince of Mirkwood thought as he looked at a face he had beheld long ago in Arda. The face of a great lord, a prince among men and finally and most importantly, an old friend who had returned to him as Aragorn and Boromir had been restored.

The Prince of Dol Amroth. Father in law to Eomer and uncle to the sons of Denethor.

Imrahil.

"I understand," Bryan said sympathetically. "There's a lot to explain and some you will have trouble believing."

"This island shouldn't be here," the captain declared firmly, as if this fact was something vital he clung to, that held together the flimsy walls of reality. Bryan could see it in his eyes, the realisation that he entered something that could not be explained, despite the evidence of it before their eyes. It was not just the captain but the others with him, edging towards belief, clinging towards the security of facts and geography.

"But it is still here," Ariel spoke up, stepping forward, beyond the reach of her husband's arm around her shoulder.

"Ariel," Legolas spoke but she silenced with a gesture of her hand and a smile.

Men could be such boars as times, she shook her head. What was needed here was a woman's touch.

"Our home exists," she said with a smile, using the language of Arda spoken by Eve and the other humans who now lived in Valinor.

Isaiah could only stare as she stepped forward. Even with her hair plastered across her white skin, her dressed clinging to her form in sheets of wet fabric, she was compelling. He suspected that the natural urges of men locked away in a boat for long periods of time, without the benefit of female companionship had much to do with their strong reaction. From Purcelli to his master at arms, they gaped at her like schoolboys, enamoured by the sway of dark wet locks, brushing against almost flawlessly pale skin. Isaiah tried to shake off the reaction but it was impossible not to become lost in those clear blue eyes, so filled with warm invitation and friendship. Isaiah who was far too old to be swayed by any pretty face, found himself feeling lightheaded just looking at her. The rest of his men were having the same reaction to the woman who seemed almost luminous in comparison to them.

"I'm sure it does," Isaiah swallowed, trying not to fall prey to the limpid pools of her eyes. "However, it doesn't explain how this island managed to just suddenly appear." He looked past her shoulder at the tall blond man who had greeted them. "

"We have always been here," she said smiling. "You simply lacked the light to find your way here, until now."

"Who are you madam?" Isaiah asked, almost bowing. There was something reverential about her. Something not quite real. "How have you come to be here."

"Like this island, I have always been here," Ariel smiled. "I am Ariel, daughter of Endemore and Miriel. Would you be so kind as to tell me your name?"

Isaiah swallowed thickly and answered, "certainly, " he offered her a gallant smile. "I'm Captain Isaiah Hill of the USS Connecticut," he introduce himself and then proceeded to do the same of his crewmen before he faced her again.

Bryan hid his surprise at Ariel's manner in handling the new arrivals. Glancing at Legolas, the former M16 man saw the elf caught between a mixture of amazement and annoyance at the attentive stares his wife was receiving from the navy men. Whether or not elven women knew the effect they had on humans, Bryan was uncertain. He knew that when he first arrived on Valinor to be confronted by the beauty of Celebrian and Galadriel, Bryan had felt like a teenager. Though he would never admit it, being Galadriel's presence still left him somewhat overwhelmed. Like he used to be with his fourth year chemistry teacher, Miss Atkins with her long blond hair and too short skirts. Nevertheless, the siren-like quality Ariel was exuding towards the men was smoothing the way and Bryan was rather grateful for it. Honestly, he was holding back too much inside too be caught in an exhausting process of trying to convince these men of where they were and the unreality they had just stepped into by arriving on these shores.

For Legolas, it was the first time he had ever seen Ariel so assertive and the emotion he had always hidden from her, or so he thought, of being a little disappointed at how unlike Melia she was, surfaced involuntary. For one hundred thousand years, Ariel had been his constant companion in Valinor. Yet, not once in those years did she exhibit any real trace of the woman Legolas had given his heart too back in Middle Earth, the only person he had considered dying for because living without her had been unimaginable. Yet he knew Ariel carried Melia's soul inside her, Legolas could feel it. The eternal bond between them could not be recreated and when Legolas had met Ariel, he had recognised it instantly.

However, as much as he loved Ariel, he wondered how much of it had been in reaction to that previous bond. He loved Melia's soul but since they had found Ariel, drenched and frightened in the wake of Sauron's attack, he was starting to see that he barely knew his wife. How was it possible to love someone without knowing the first thing about her? There was a strength to Ariel that he was only now seeing and Legolas felt a deep sense of shame at realising that he had bothered to seek it out before this.

"Please," Ariel continued to speak after making introductions of her company to the new folk, "our lands are in peril. We need your assistance."

"Peril?" Isaiah looked up. Who talked like this and as soon as he thought it, it stabbed his consciousness that this was just another piece of the puzzle at how bizarre this situation was.

"Ariel," Bryan spoke up, not certain he wanted to spring balrogs and dragons on these men. They had not even been confronted with the fact that they were conversing with elves. Mythological monsters and a dark lord threatening the world with Armageddon were going to take some easing into. "I don't know whether that's such a good idea."

"Sauron will soon be arriving at their shores will he not?" She asked in challenge. "If they do not know now, they will certainly understand when he arrives at their shores with his fell host. Can we not save the time and showing them what it is they face when he arrives?"

"Who?" Isaiah demanded, trying to make sense of what was seeing and feeling like he had walked in on the second act of a play in Swahili.

"My wife is right," Legolas spoke up and stepped forward to take his place next to her, "Bryan, they should know. If we are to acquire their assistance to find Eve then they have a right to know." He offered Ariel a little smile of encouragement, as well as brushing his fingers gently across her shoulder in a gesture of intimacy the others would not mistake.

"Captain," Aaron finally found his voice. "We need your help but we need to show you exactly where you are. If we tell you, you're not going to believe us. You really need to see it for yourself."

"Both of our homes are in danger," Ariel added, looking at Isaiah. "And we do not have a great deal of time." Ariel thought of Eve and the infant inside her and shuddered inwardly. They have very little time indeed.

All this bordered on the fantastical but as well as being a mariner, Captain Isaiah Hill was also a soldier and the oath he took to protect his country took precedence over all other considerations. The woman spoke of danger, danger not only to her home but to his. He thought of what had attacked his boat, a biologic that was capable of doing 35 knots, matching the speed of a nuclear submarine, upon which they had to fire a torpedo to stop. He and his crew had not simply imagined that and if it was related to the sudden appearance of this island, Isaiah needed to find out the full scope of the danger she spoke of.

"Alright," he glanced at his men and he saw Purcelli and the others showing their agreement with his decision. Not that he needed it really but still it was good to know that they were behind him.

"Show us but one thing first," he met Bryan's eyes directly.

"Go ahead," Bryan answered wondering what was on the man's mind.

"What's with their ears?"

Their power had almost withered to nothing.

Since the leader of their number had been destroyed and their master taken beyond their reach. They lingered like wraiths, diminishing faster like smoke in the wind. For the first time in too long, they felt real fear. The fears of the evil are dark insidious things, swirling around their consciousness like vile ooze, viscous and cold. Forced to remain in the darkness below the world, they waited for the end to come, quaking in terror at the arrival of the thing that they had alluded for as long as they knew. Even when their flesh had been the stuff of mortals, they had tried to outrun the monster but Eru wrote himself their doom himself. It could not be denied. They had sold their allegiances and ultimately their souls to escape it. When the last jewel of the Silmarils had passed from the world of men to the forbidden realm of the Valar, they knew that they would elude it no longer.

Beneath the earth of the lands once ruled by their stolen master, the Nazgul had awaited for death to come.

"Are we done then?" Adunaphel asked in the darkness below.

"We are done," answered the one who in the old days was known to all as Khamul the Easterling. "Without His power we diminish. Soon we will return to the shadow world."

"Forever," Indur's voice hissed. "We failed him."

And himself as well, the Nazgul thought sullenly. He had dreamed one day to reclaim the former seat of his power, Mumakan, to ride the war oliphants to victory, trampling underfoot all their enemies. Enemies, like weakling Eldar who fled Arda like cowards and the humans who had driven his beloved mumakils into extinction with their cursed domination of the world. So many wondrous dreams dashed because of their terrible failure.

A general murmur of agreement rippled through the black, little more than a slight shift of ill wind. They had failed to recover the jewel housing the light of the great trees and in their failure had doomed not only themselves but their great lord, now a lowly prisoner of the Valar. The hated, cursed Valar who sat in their ivory towers, caring little about the world and yet presuming to rule over it by sending out their Eldar pets, like flies bloated with blood to feed on a rotting carcass.

Beneath the lands of what was once Mordor, they sat in dominion over the freshly birthed Uruks who were turning on each other like ravenous dogs now that they were bereft of any real purpose. All of them filled with rage, their promise unfulfilled as they continued to harness a growing malignancy of berserker fury that would consume them whole if not unleashed. So many grate plans had come to ruin when their lord had been taken. The foul humans who had stolen him had left so many dead and if the Nazgul were able to feast on hatred alone, then they would have been restored to their former glory.

For Andunaphel who had once been commanded by his lord to make sturdy the fortifications of Dol Guldur, it stung particularly deep because an army waited for his instruction. The rage and power of these Uruks were a forced to be reckoned with but robbed of any guidance or leadership, they would never be anything more than a violent rabble. Andunaphel had waited for years for this master's whore to breed the Uruk so that he could mould them for the Dark One's use. Now like all else, that hoped had diminished into nothingness.

The eight wandered through the catacombs. Disaffected and without purpose. Lingering in the mortal plane because without their master, their journey to limbo was nearly complete. Not quite death and not quite living became more intolerable when one had no substance to change anything about them. Their presence still gave the Uruks fear and to some degree the eight were able to command their rabid arm beneath the surface of Arda. Like their wraith masters, the Uruks could sense doom though they had not presence of mind to truly comprehend it.

"What now?" Akhorahil asked.

"We diminish," Khamul spoke, his unearthly voice little more than a hiss. "We fade forever into shadow and do not return from it as Morgul was diminished."

"He was not diminished!" Ren, another of his brothers spat. "The human waste that was Denethor's youngest son killed him!"

"The Silmarils killed him," Khamul corrected, unable to abide that the strongest of them had been taken by the weakling child of a lowly steward, not even the captain of Gondor.

"What does it matter?" The horse man lamented. "He is dead. First at the hands of the Shield Bitch and then by her weaker consort."

"You will not speak of Morgul in that manner!" Khamul bellowed. There was little power left to him but he would not see Morgul besmirched by one of their own.

"What manner?" Uvath the Horseman, formerly of the Variags and once Sauron's hand in the city of Minas Ithil, barked back defiantly. "It is the truth."

"I will have your tongue!" Khamul shouted again.

"Good luck if you can find it," Uvath snorted in derision, "or your own for that matter."

Uvath's hope was a well run dry. After languishing in these confines for so long, the Nazgul longed for the freedom of riding unfettered through the night, feeling the wind rushing past him as he thundered forward in perfect unison with the beast beneath him. He had not been in Sauron's command so long that he forgot that particular pleasure. Even when they had been restored to the world of men, Uvath had been thoroughly disappointed to learn that the symbiosis between horse and rider had been discarded as a pastime of the privileged. The cold mechanical beasts that men used for their travels did little to inspire him despite its advantageous in speed.

Khamul snorted in disgust at Uvath's weakness. His brother had always been more interested in hedonistic pleasures instead of serving their master's will. It did not surprise the lieutenant that in their master's absence Uvath had finally revealed it to them all. "You are pitiful," he hissed snidely.

"We are all pitiful," Uvath retaliated, almost shrugging to some degree. "Without our master we are nothing and yet we continue to linger here like frightened children because we are fearful of venturing out in our diminished state, as if any of them up there could harm us."

"That is the same reasoning that saw Morgul killed," Hoarmurath snorted in equal derision. "Complacency makes us all weak and unguarded. We should never underestimate the Edain, male or female, big or small. They have outlasted all the mortal races, the dwarves, the periannath, the orcs, the trolls, ourselves even. Such endurance should be viewed with caution."

"We will never fight them again," Indur lamented. "We will diminish into the shadows and that will be the end of us."

"Will you cease your portents of disaster!" Khamul shouted and suddenly, it felt as if a swell was rising in him, a surge of power that surged quickly through his wraithlike form and had to be expended. Indur flew across the room, slamming into the wall. Khamul was about to react to the sudden burst of energy when his entire body was suffused with pain. Throwing his head back, he uttered a scream through his unseen lips. However, if it was help he wanted, then none was forthcoming because the rest of his brothers were screaming in similar agony.

Throughout the cavern, the Uruks hearing the blood chilling screams of Sauron's Nazgul froze in fear. The banshee wails that echoed from the deepest corners through the largest cavernous, made all who heard it cringe and then cover their ears. There were more than screams in the air but rather the dreadful shriek of pain as if the fabric of hell itself had been torn asunder. Many joined the terrible sound by adding their own voices, bellowing into the darkness in solidarity for whatever horrors being visited upon their Nazgul masters. For them, they had known no other teachers than the wraiths who had guided them since their emergence, feeding their hatred of man with magnificence tales of the dark lord Sauron.

Power.

Power was filtering through them.

Khamal could feel it coming to life within the dark ooze of blood inside his long dead body, transmuted by the shadow realm to allow nothing to escape it, even light. For a moment, he could not understand how this could be. Their master was beyond their reach. He was a prisoner of the Valar, his great powers confined within the ruined flesh of his mortal shell. They had struggled to reach him for months and had been able to sense nothing of him. Yet the power that filled them now was familiar, infusing them with power they had not known since Sauron had been at his strongest.

As the Nazgul screamed and suffered, in the middle of the cavern floor, a dark piece of fabric, little more than a blob of sheet materialized on the ground and began to rise. Slowly and surely, air beneath it seemed to swell and it started to grow almost like some dark seedling infused with life. The fabric seemed to increase in volume as it rose higher from the floor. Suddenly, the blob became sheets that hung loosely, like draperies swaying in the breeze. The shape beneath became more pronounced as the material pressed against it in its movement, the shape of a leg, the bow of joint, until shoulders rolled into view. Lifting up, the head raised and the man stood in the center of his brother's cloaked, his face hidden beneath the hood, radiating two pinpricks of crimson light where his eyes should have been.

Alive.

Morgul was alive.

Cast into limbo at the hands of a human, he had languished in despair. Alone and fearful that he would never know again the companionship of his brothers or glory in the power of his master's presence. His hate kept him alive, reminded him that he could not allow his consciousness to dissipate into non-existence. He would have his vengeance, not only on the Shield Bitch but her weak husband, who had burned the flesh from his bones and scattered his soul into limbo using the light of the great trees. They would surely pay and Morgul refused to die until that day came.

Still his faith had been eroded and just when he thought that it would never come, that he would be trapped in this realm forever, Morgul found himself facing the great eye, breathed in flame, powerful and magnificent all at the same time. The eye stared at him, it became his world, his sun, his life as it has been since the day he had slipped on the ring that would place him in Sauron's service for all time.

**__**

It is time, Morgul.

__

Master...it is you? Is it really you? He had asked of the great eye.

**__**

It is I, Morgul. Sauron. I cannot have you languish here my servant. I need you in the world of Arda.

__

I have been slain by the light of the great trees.

** __**

You are not slain, Morgul. No one can take from you the unlife I have granted. They may commend your spirit to this forgotten place but whilst your soul is chained to mine, you will live while I live.

__

Help me from this place my lord. Help me from this place and let me resume my service to you.

** __**

You will join your brothers who will be as they were before the One Ring was lost, before it all went wrong. I am stronger now than I have ever been. We need no fear of Morgoth returning to reclaim what is his, I have dealt that aristocratic fool for the last time. My power now rivals that of Manwe and I have ensured that the rest of Eru's bastards will not interfere. We will turn Arda like a pig on a spit. I am coming with all the darkness that have been chained in forbidden vaults of Mandos. You must unleash upon the world, every agent, every beast, everyone who would serve in our case, find them and let them do their worst. I want there to shadow and flame, blood running through streets. We will fill the air with so much destruction that they will retch on their terror. Arda was ours once, it is time to remind the world of that fact.

This is the moment, Morgul. We will take Arda or burn it to a cinder.

Standing in the center of the storm, the Lord of the Nazgul, waited for his companions to replenish their strength. His crimson eyes illuminated the walls of the cavern as he waited. He could hear the rumbling concern of the Uruks beyond. They wanted to approach but feared to do so. Elsewhere in the underground fortress, the great spiders who had been thriving quite plentifully in the darkness, feasting on the sustenance provided by Uruks, the occasional human and whatever animals that might make a home in these caves were also twitching with anticipation. Unlike the orcs, the spiders could feel the return of Sauron almost as acutely as the Nazgul was filling the return of their master to the world of men.

Remembering Sauron's words, they would be unleashed upon the world soon enough. For now, his brothers needed to be appraised of their instructions.

"It feels good does it not?" He asked them as they started to recover from their sudden restoration.

"Morgul," Khamul looked at him. "How is it possible? Our master is free!"

"Yes," Morgul nodded, the gesture evident only by the slight flutter of his hood. "He has broken free of the Valar and has been restored. He is returning to Arda even as we speak. We have much to do."

"But what of the Valar? Will they not attempt to retrieve him?" Akhorahil asked, although his voice was decidedly lacking in its earlier apprehension. His restored strength made him bold and he was eager to return to the world of men, to lay claim to it as Sauron had always believed they would.

"The way is clear of the Valar or Melkor," Morgul explained to his astonished but grateful brothers. For them, hope had been lost. This restoration and the news of Sauron's imminent arrival were almost too good to be believed when there had been so many disappointments already. "The master is returning to us and he brings with him all the host of the forbidden vault, the denizens of shadow that had been chained to the afterlife by Mandos. They have sworn their allegiance and they travel with him now."

"Then we shall go to meet him!" Khamul exclaimed proudly and the others echoed his sentiments.

"We will meet him indeed," Morgul almost smiled. His lips spreading across his unseen face in amusement and relish. "We will meet them with our armies, with all the beasts and allies we have hidden away for too long within these walls. Finally, they will see the light and we will crush the world of men and run the streets red with the blood of those who have stood against us."

"What of the Eldar?" Dwaw inquired. "They will move to stop us."

"They are nothing." Morgul retorted. "Without the protection of the Valar, they are weak and their number too few to impede us. Even if they dared to emerge from the Undying Lands, which they will not, the race of men knows not what they are. Men will not ally with them, not as before. The Eldar will stand alone and without the alliance of men, they will fall."

"It matters not!" Uvath said excitedly. "They cannot stand against us. We are restored and we are capable of vanquishing any army of Edain or Eldar that chooses to do battle against us. The prophecy still stands, we may not be killed by any man and there is not a jewel nor woman who can change that."

If they could see, they would have seen Morgul grinning.

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	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

The Crossing

Fred was still present but she was not alone.

Through her it spoke and when it spoke, she felt not afraid. For the first time in her life, possibly the only time she suspected, would everything be so clear, would the path ahead have little divergence. As she was carried by Eric through the ruined streets of Tirion following Glorfindel's revelation that Frank Miller was presently at the house of Elrond, the child she was grieved for the destruction she saw. She recalled only recently, coming to visit Galadriel with Tory and Bryan. She liked the golden lady and seeing the woman was always a treat. Galdriel spoke to her and Sam of true things, things that most grown ups did not believe children should know. Thinking of Tory brought grief to her and she remembered how it felt to know that the lady was dead. It was almost as bad as seeing the Nazgul killing her mother and father.

_Little one_, the voice inside her head said gently. _You will see them again someday, I promise you_.

_I miss them_, she answered back.

They live in your heart child and their souls watch over you.

Fred wanted so much for this to be true.

Much of Tirion was abandoned. The balrogs had done their work well and had driven the elves from their city. Those who lingered, did so out of fear loved ones would not find them and also to mount the defense against the enemy they had believed, somewhat erroneously, was vanquished forever. The mobilization was slower than it ought to have been for the Eldar had not known war in a hundred millennia. The complacency that Manwe himself had felt was showing itself and while some rose to the occasion, others were bewildered. It was difficult to offer leadership and to rouse the spirit of battle in those who had never in their lives known what is to fear for one's very existence.

Elrond Peredhil who had fought more battles than any elf or man should do in one lifetime, found himself playing leader to a council of war once again. As Glorfindel and those under him went to defeat the Balrogs, a party had been sent across the island, to seek out Mithrandir if he still remained on the island. It disturbed him because his mother in law, the great Noldor lady Galadriel, seemed to be in a trance like state. In such times, it was her counsel that he relied upon in the past but now, she offered him little guidance and her mental state was so disaffected that her loved ones feared for her. Celebrian had taken to her mother's side, determined not to leave the lady because on one thing Galadriel was immovable, she would not leave Tirion.

"Not yet," she said.

"Elrond I can't stay anymore," Frank Miller found the former lord of Rivendell and declared firmly. "I have to go find my family."

"Frank," Elrond looked at him impatiently as he saw more wounded being brought into his home, the women immediately rushing around them like ants to tend the fallen. "Your wife and children are on the fringes of the island, far from this carnage. They are most likely safer than you are. The balrogs are determined to level this city and while Glorfindel manages to hold some at bay, the danger is still considerable. It is not wise for you to..." his voice trailed when he saw another batch of arrivals enter the hallway.

"FRANK!" Miranda's voice called out immediately upon seeing her husband on the steps leading deeper into Elrond's grand home.

Frank's head snapped around, following that voice, a surge of untold relief flowing through his veins at a sound so sweet to his ears, it was almost music. Without another word, he raced down the steps and met his wife's body in a tight embrace and bruising kiss that was passion, gratitude and a thousand unspoken emotions that only she could see in his eyes.

"Oh bloody hell," he said holding her, not realising until a moment later that she was holding Pip in her arms and the child was being crushed between the two of them. "Oh god I'm so glad you're here, I was just coming to find you, balrogs be damned." Glancing down at his son, Frank offered Pip an equally fond smile, kissing the boy on his forehead and ruffling his hair in affection. "How's my Pip?"

"Happy to see you daddy," the little face looked back at him smiling.

"I know we shouldn't have come," Miranda said quickly as Frank took steps towards Eric, Fred, Jason and his brave Sam who was clutching the camera man's hand tightly but smiling happily at the sight of his family reunited. "But we had to tell you what's happened."

"You know what's going on here?" Frank looked at them.

"Yes," Miranda nodded as Elrond came to greet them. "David Saeran has escaped."

"What?" Elrond exclaimed in a mixture of horror. "That is not possible."

"Its possible," Miranda answered grimly, thinking of the man and the sheer evil radiating from him. Even the Nazgul that they had fought did not seem so sinister. "Not only has he escaped but he released all these things from wherever it was he escaped from."

"Where is he?" Elrond managed to ask after the enormity of what had happened sunk truly into his consciousness.

"He's gone," Eric replied setting down Fred. "He's taken all his monsters with him. They're heading back to our world."

"And no is going to have any idea how to deal with him," Jason added. "Jesus, no one back there has any idea what he's capable of."

"We have to go back and tell them," Frank said without even having to think twice. "We're going to have to tell them what they're up against."

"We can't just march there and blurt it out!" Jason retorted.

"Why not?" Miranda looked at him. "He's not taking any pains to hide himself and whether or not people want to believe, they're going to have to when they see fire breathing dragons turn their cities into rubble. We know he's got an army waiting for him already. We've seen it."

"She's right," Eric nodded in agreement. "We have to go back."

"We must go back," Fred spoke and this time she addressed Elrond directly. "All of us."

Elrond's mind had been so preoccupied with the realisation that Sauron had made his escape that at first the words from the little girl did not register. However, like drop of ink on parchment, it seeped it and left its mark. Power. The child was radiating power. Not even in Galadriel's presence had it felt so strong. Staring at her for a moment, Elrond tried to place it and could not.

"All of us? Do you mean the Eldar?"

"The End of Days has come, son of Earendil," Fred spoke in that haunting voice not at all her own. "It cannot be fought in isolation. If the reign of Sauron and Melkor is to end for all time, then the Eldar must fight along side of the Edain. Even now, Auel's children are awakening. As Sauron is awakening all the fell beasts that still walk the earth, I have called the armies of the light. We must make the crossing to join them."

"Auel's folk?" Frank burst out. "You mean the dwarves?"

"They no longer exist," Elrond exclaimed. "There has been no word...."

"They hide just as well as you," Fred smiled and broke away from her minders. Walking past Elrond, the little girl made her through the hallway.

"What's happening to her?" Eric asked as Fred walked away, a curious sight among the elves dressed in battle armor.

"She is not alone in her body," Elrond stated the obvious. "There is someone with her, someone I do not recognise."

"Fred," Miranda called out, "stay with us love." For Miranda, it did not matter who occupied the child's body, her maternal instincts allowed her to see nothing else and to protect the girl the same way. It was the least Miranda could do for Bryan.

"I must find the White Lady," Fred answered and continued meandering through the bodies towards the steps. "I must speak to Galadriel."

The world changes.

Her grand child had said that once or so Legolas Greenleaf had claimed. Galadriel herself had never heard the words uttered by the dear child for she had by then, sailed across the sea towards the Undying Lands leaving Arwen to her fate. Like Elrond, she had grieved for the child but Galadriel was wise enough to know that great love were worth the sacrifice they sometimes demanded. The Evenstar's love for her ranger had certainly been that. Now, with Valinor thrust unceremoniously into Arda's bosom once more, the protection of the Valar seemingly vanished and the dark creatures of Mandos turning Tirion into ruin, Galadriel knew that the fate of her people was about to take a irrevocable turn for change.

She felt the child even before Fred arrived in her chamber.

Galadriel had felt it for some time now but she had not believed it. She did not think anyone else would either and dared not speak of it to anyone else without leave. Her daughter Celebrian sat at her side, fretting in growing concern. Celebrian took after her father, a gentle more caring soul than her mother who was too long in a position of authority and had been hardened by it.

"Mother," Celebrian said holding her hand. "Please speak to me. You frighten me with your silence."

Galadriel was barely conscious of her words, still locked in stunned silence as the child appeared in her chambers with a small part of humans led by her son in law. Celebrian's first impulse upon seeing her husband was to go to him, needing comfort herself. Galadriel did nothing to stop her because her eyes were fixed on the child that was Fred and something else all together. Meeting those eyes, blue like orbs that could pierce the skin, Galadriel was forced to look away. It was seemingly too.

"You honor me," she said dropping her head down.

"There is no honor," Fred responded quickly, uncomfortable by the humility of one so great and worthy in deeds and counsel. "You know what is coming?"

"Yes," Galadriel nodded, "the End of Days."

"The elves must take part in the battle. The Edain will not know what it is they deal with. Their memories are short, they do not have your knowledge. Only together can you defeat Sauron."

"Who are you?" Elrond demanded to know, for the course this child was suggesting was folly. For so long, his people had remained within the confines of Valinor and though they had recently been exploring Arda once again, they were not ready to emerge in such a manner. They were not ready to attempt an alliance with men who might perceive them as a threat and could conceivably be as dangerous to them as Sauron.

"It matters little," Galadriel spoke in a firm voice. "Except that she is right. We must arm for war and we must do it now."

"You expect us to simply leave Valinor in this state and cross the sea to Arda?" Elrond looked at her incredulously. "What about the danger we face here? There are balrogs roaming through our cities, laying waste to all that we have built."

"If we do not go, it does not matter what the balrogs do," Galadriel answered, "we will be destroyed nonetheless. If Sauron takes Arda, how long do you think it will be before he turns his eye to us? The balrogs were left here to delay us while he unleashes his worst upon Arda."

"We have weapons in our world," Frank spoke up, understanding what Galadriel was saying, "weapons so powerful that they could reduce this entire planet to ash. If Saeron, Sauron, whatever pushes my people hard enough, they will use it and we will all die."

"When that happens," Miranda added her voice to Frank's, "it won't matter whether or not there are balrogs here, there will be nothing left."

Elrond let out a deep breath because while the identity of who was occupying Fred remained a mystery, the word of Galadriel could not be questioned. The word of she whose bloodline was traced directly to Finwe, the first High King of the Noldor and the remaining member of that great and noble house could almost be considered a royal decree. If Galadriel believed their doom would follow if they did not do as this child demanded, then Elrond believed. He had listened to her counsel for too long to ignore it and in more ages than anyone could even count, she had led her people wisely. He did not think that had changed.

"Where will we go?" Elrond asked. "Where would Sauron go first?"

"England," Eric spoke first without thinking.

"England?" Miranda stared at him. "Why England?"

"First port of call and if he intends to use all the resources available to him, then England is Malcolm Industries main seat of power. From there, he can rally all those things we saw under Germany."

"The Uruk Hai," Frank nodded in agreement. "According to Bryan, there was another place, a bigger one in Romania. Gandalf claimed it was the seat of his power back in the ancient times."

"Mordor," Elrond nodded. "Gandalf said that Sauron had built his fortress in your world in what used to be Barad-dur. He will rally them and the Nine."

"The Nine!" Jason exclaimed. "There can't be nine, we killed one. There should be eight!"

"You cannot kill what is already dead," Elrond explained. "Their spirit may be returned to the shadow world but they are bound to Sauron. While he lives, so do they and if he is restored to his former strength, then it should be assumed that they will be as well."

"Oh shit," Jason muttered, "they're going to be really pissed at us then."

The remark earned him a jab from Eric's elbow. Speaking like that in front of Galadriel was like making flatulence jokes in front of the Queen of England or worse yet, the Pope.

"We must rally our forces," Galadriel said looking at Elrond. "We will take everyone who can travel with us to the Enchanted Isles. They will be safe there from the balrogs, at least for a time. Those who can fight will continue on towards Arda."

"Move everyone?" Celebrian gasped. The enormity of it was too much for her to comprehend. "We are to flee?"

"We cannot stand indefinitely against the balrogs," Elrond looked at her, "we could defeat them if we willing to expend the time and effort but we do so with losses we cannot afford if there is a greater battle to be fought."

"Maybe we can get help," Frank looked at the elves. "You are in the real world now, perhaps we can contact them for assistance."

"And what will you tell them?" Elrond stared back at him.

"He's right," Eric said with a heavy sigh. "To even get anyone out this far will take time that is if they didn't think you were insane to begin with."

"Are you going to be able to move that many people?" Miranda looked to Elrond.

"Some of us will remain behind to battle the enemy," Elrond replied. "Most likely Glorfindel and his men. If they are able to turn the tide then the others may return, if not we will abandon the island until such time as Sauron is destroyed."

The gravity of what was being discussed drew a heavy curtain of silence over all of them. Frank could see how difficult it was for the elves to even entertain such a notion, let alone come to the understanding that there could be no other way. While Galadriel seemed set largely because of her strange understanding of who was inside Fred, Elrond and Celebrian who did not have that insight were less certain. Frank could not imagine what it must be like to take a step into a world that was completely alien to fight an enemy so dark and powerful.

"It must be this way," Fred broke the silence by taking Elrond's hand in her own, her small palm closing around his long, slender fingers. "For all to be renewed, there must be a beginning and an end. We are nearing the end. For too long you have remained hidden away, left apart from all others. It was to protect you but it was not a wise choice. Your race like any others must evolve, must become more than what it is. Elves have an advantage that no others have, you have the years to shape your destiny, not race to keep up with it as do men and dwarves. The age of isolation is ended, it is time you joined the world again, even if it is in its final moments."

He looked into her eyes and understood then who she was.

His breath caught and when she nodded at his understanding. Elrond released his gasp and then did the same.

"It will be done as you will," he said finally to her and to the others present. "We will go."

Jesus H. Christ.

That was the only thing that Isaiah Hill could think as they approached the city on horseback. It had been years since he had been astride a horse and the navy captain was somewhat surprised that he had even remembered how it was done. Unfortunately, this had been the island's only means of transport so Isaiah did not have the opportunity to debate the matter. Purcelli had complained bitterly, being a Brooklyn boy, about riding double with one of the elves since the only wildlife he had ever mastered was a New York cockroach and stepping on them was quite different from riding the damn things.

Of course horses were the least of it. Purcelli was riding double with a fucking elf.

An elf, for Christ sake, an elf.

When Aaron Stone had explained it, Isaiah and his men had laughed. No shit, they had actually burst out laughing because it was ridiculous. Elves were the poor, underpaid, overworked little guys in Santa's workshop, not tall, perfect looking specimens that seemed to make men appear coarse and brutal by comparison. They were figments of story tellers' imagination, not flesh and blood and certainly not real. However, it was hard to be so obtuse when Isaiah was standing on an island that had somehow escaped the notice of every cartographer who had ever sailed these waters and had managed to escape modern satellites until a short time ago. Denial could only go so far before empirical evidence and logic won the day.

And he certainly could not deny it when he saw the city in the distance. Even through the rain and wind, Isaiah was mesmerized by it. Years ago, he had found himself in Athens, looking at the Parthenon and wondering to himself what it must have been like to see the ancient city in its former glory, when it stood as the symbol of freedom and civilization for the fledgling human race. When he saw the city of Tirion for the first time, Isaiah knew. He could see ornate spires, tall, exquisitely built towers, seeming like figurines sculpted from crystal, bone and pearl. Even with the grey skies surrounding Tirion, there was no doubting its magnificence. For a brief second, the years of jaded service to his country and everything Isaiah knew about anything, fell away to be replaced by the wonder of the explorer who had just discovered the New World.

For that brief second he believed. They all did.

"Christ," Isaiah gasped, "its beautiful."

"We have spent many ages making it so," Legolas could not help but smile at the man's awe at Tirion. "It is but one of many cities on this island. There is Aqalonde on the coast as well. That is the home of the Teleri."

"How long have you lived here?" Nicholas Purcelli inquired, his disbelief having gone the same way as his captain.

"We have existed on this island for ten millennia," Elladan replied, "as it is measured by your calendar I believe."

"One hundred thousand years?" Isaiah gasped. It was beyond him.

"Bloody hell," Bryan exclaimed as they entered the equally ornate gates of Tirion that stood high like a fortress from an ancient castle. Beyond the gates, the pristine beauty of Tirion ended. The paved streets were deserted and what had not been apparent earlier was clear to all of them now as the horses trotted deeper into the city. Chunks of debris covered the floor, there were blooms of amber fire scattered throughout the buildings. Smoke columns, obscured by the rain and wind was billowing into the sky. Tirion's innards looked like a war zone.

"Jesus," Aaron exclaimed, not realising until this moment how bad the onslaught of the Urloki had been.

"What the hell is going on here?" Isaiah managed to ask.

Having spent most of his adult life beneath the ocean waves, surrounded by a steel craft that could just as easily turn into a tomb if anything were to go awry, Isaiah knew how to read men. Something was happening on this island beyond its sudden discovery by the rest of the world. Something ominous that preyed heavily on the minds of their new companions. Isaiah could see the thin line of tension that connected all of them together. They were all poised for trouble and until reaching the gates of Tirion, Isaiah had been unable to guess what it was that was so ominously awaiting them.

It was Legolas who sensed it first.

Mostly because he was the only one in their company who had ever faced what was looming closer in his awareness. The memory had stayed with him throughout the ages. Time could not erase such terror, no matter how much of it had passed. Ariel who rode with him, noted the straightening of his spine, the sudden clenching of its jaw.

"It cannot be..." Legolas stammered.

"What?" Bryan shot the elf a stare, not missing how the blood had suddenly drained from his face.

"Can you not sense it?" He threw the question at the others.

"Sense what?" Aaron demanded, growing impatient and frankly, alarmed.

Almost in answer to his question, the sudden sound of a tremor rumbled across the ground beneath them. Puddles of water rippled in reaction to the slight quake, growing more intense as the sound repeated itself. Debris shuddered on the ground, breaking into smaller fragments. The elves had fallen silent, all of them, as they were invaded by the same infectious sensation that that made Legolas turn pale with fright.

"What is that?" Bryan looked at them in puzzlement until he saw the shadow emerge from the building and all words left him. "Bloody hell...."

The balrog that Legolas Greenleaf had only seen in his nightmares stood at the end of the debris-covered street, its glowing eyes fixed upon the newest arrivals to the city. Swirls of dark smoke curled around in tendrils, combating the wind and rain. It stared at them for a few seconds before bellowing loudly, the sounds of its scream seemed to almost tear the fabric of the sky. Assailed by arrows that could still be seen protruding from its dark flesh, the great best rumbled forward like a dark storm. Heat and smoke followed its juggernaut pace towards them.

"Come on!" Bryan shouted as he dug his heels into the side of his horse, sending the already frightened animal surging away from the monster pursuing them

"Hold on to me!" Legolas ordered Ariel as they raced away from the gates. Behind him, he heard the smashing of rocks as the balrog burst though the pearl laden archway leading into Tirion. Fragments of rock rained down upon them. Making their horse rear up in an attempt to evade falling debris. Ariel tried to remain behind her husband but the sudden action was too quick and she stumbled backwards.

"Legolas!" She screamed.

"Ariel!" Legolas turned around in horror to see her fall. The balrog was almost upon her. No, no, no! He could not allow her to die! As the others began to ride away, Legolas turned back to reclaim his mate, his horse thundering towards the fell beast.

"Legolas! Stop!" Aragorn shouted as he saw the prince turn back. "BRYAN!"

Bryan was already turning his horse back towards the city. Reaching into the folds of his coat, he pulled out his gun and started shooting, hoping the din caused by the weapon would somehow confused the beast long enough for the elf to reach his wife. After losing Tory today and Eve in Saeran's clutches, Bryan was not about to see another friend lose the woman he loved. That would be too cruel.

She could feel the heat on her skin. As Ariel looked up and saw the balrog, carrying with its cloak of shadow, she became numb with terror. She had heard stories of these creatures all her life but to see one in the flesh was beyond her ability to cope. The beast it seemed could smell her fear and its fiery eyes seemed to glow with greater malevolence as it lashed its powerful whip in her direction. Ariel let out a soft cry as she threw herself out of its path. The great lash of flame struck the wall behind her, destroying it completely. She stumbled out of its path, like a mouse trying to escape a man's angry boot. Scrambling away in desperation, she tried not to show fear but fear she felt. Her senses were becoming overwhelmed by its evil, thick and vicious.

Suddenly a barrage of arrows struck the creature as Ariel saw Legolas riding towards her, commanding his terrified mount to continue forward as he assailed the enemy with more and more arrows. Each met their mark, extracting a pained bellow of pain as they tore into its dark flesh. For a moment, she could only watch in a mixture of relief and pride, her golden archer coming fearlessly to her rescue. However, the charge of the once prince of Mirkwood could not be left unchallenged. The balrogs were the most fearsome creatures of Melkor's army, save the Urloki and would not be cowed by one lone archer.

"LEGOLAS!" She shrieked in horror as she saw the whip coming down at him.

The powerful lash struck powerfully into Legolas' horse, sending both rider and mount into air, like toys flung aside by a petulant child. Ariel's scream died in her throat as she saw the animal bray in helpless agony as the fiery lash set it alight. Legolas landed on the ground hard, falling against the fragment of broken wall. Her breath died in her throat upon seeing him merely lying there, unconscious to the world beneath the gaze of the looming balrog who was preparing to make the kill.

NO! She would not let that happen. She could not!

Running forward, she saw nothing but her husband, lying amongst the debris, about to become another victim of this monster's evil. Ignoring her terror, Ariel scrambled to his side, noticing the blood running down the side of his face. Heart pounding, she dropped to her knees and took him in her arms, trying to wake him before the balrog came any closer.

"Prince!" she shook him hard, her eyes darting back and forth from the approaching monster. "You must awake, please! You must get up!" She shook him harder and could feel the icy cold touch of the shadow that followed creatures of such darkness like slaves to an evil master. "PRINCE! GET UP!"

Legolas opened his eyes and for a moment, thought he was dreaming. She had called him Prince.

"Melia....?"

Ariel did not think it possible that there could be a worse thing than falling prey to a balrog's rampage until she heard her husband call her by someone else's name.

"You must awake!" she said trying not to show how much his words had shaken her. "We must move now!"

Legolas blinked twice and realized why,

"MOVE!" Coming to life as he saw the lash bearing down on them both, Legolas rolled across the ground taking Ariel with him as the earth heaved violently where they had been, raining sots of soil and dirt over them. The last ripped through the soil cruelly and Legolas shuddered to think what would have happened if they had not escaped its reach in time. As it was, they were nowhere near safe and the balrog was resuming its attack. This time, it was aiming for its prey with far more precision..

"Hey!" Bryan Miller bellowed loudly as he closed in on his friends and the beast that was too close to them for comfort. The abrupt appearance of the arrival caused the massive creature to turn momentarily and Bryan took that advantage of that slight distraction to open fire. A murderous hail of bullets tore through the balrog's dark torso as he aimed for maximum penetration. Bryan had no idea whether or not bullets could harm the creature, particularly when it was man made. Having recalled that the Nine could only be affected by elven blessed weapons, Bryan was uncertain if the same rule applied here. However, since the dragon that had chased them earlier was susceptible to bullets, Bryan had to believe that this monster was similarly vulnerable. As the projectiles hit their mark, he saw the creature staggered back, startled by both the noise and the manner of weapon that was assailing it. Taking its disorientation as a good sign, Bryan continued to shoot, emptying his entire clip into the demon's chest.

Riding hard on his heels was Aaron Stone who raced his horse across the ruined landscape towards the fallen couple. Taking advantage of the lesson that the Englishman was currently giving the balrog in twentieth century weaponry, Aaron rode past the creature to reach the elves. "Legolas! Ariel! Come on!" He said extending a hand towards Ariel, to pull her onto the saddle with him. Legolas would expect him to take his lady to safety first.

"Go!" Legolas hoisted his wife onto the saddle and shouted at Aaron.

"But Legolas...!" she protested

"I shall be right behind you," Legolas said not caring on his own safety when his wife and his best friend was imperiled.

"I'm coming back for you!" Aaron said firmly.

"You will not have to," Legolas returned just as confidently. "Go!" He swatted the horse's rump and sent the steed racing away.

As the horse raced away, Legolas followed closely behind the animal and only diverged in his course when he saw the balrog battling Bryan on his horse. The Edain still had the advantage and it was an unearthly sound indeed to hear the sound of such crude weapons bursting in his ears on the isle of Valinor. It added to the unreality of it all, to the deconstruction of paradise. Riding next to him, Legolas saw the newly arrived human who was Imrahil reborn join the former captain of Gondor in doing battle with the balrog. Similarly armed, the one who called Isaiah in this life was releasing the same projectiles at the enemy, causing the balrog to retreat in confusion. Legolas suspected the wounds would be slight in the final accounting of things but the balrog's lack of knowledge was a tool to be exploited.

"Legolas," Elladan's voice reached his ear and he looked up to see the Elrond's son coming to retrieve him.

"Your timing is impeccable," Legolas said taking the offered hand and mounted the horse in one graceful leap.

"As always," Elladan replied grimly, no humor in his voice as he rode away from the scene and shouted at Bryan to withdraw, now that their friends were safe.

Suddenly, there was the sound of rushing air. Like a flock of birds had suddenly taken flight. Their elven senses detecting it first, both Legolas and Elladan honed in quickly on the direction of it. Against the grey sky, they saw it coming, a barrage almost as relentless as the projectiles that Bryan and Isaiah were sending at it. It came from the roofs and balconies of buildings that had not been gutted by flame or demolished by the balrog's lash. Warriors in armor glistening under the blanket of rain, stood tall and brave as their bows delivered their deadly bounty.

"Bryan!" Elladan shouted. "Withdraw!"

It was through the break in gunfire that Bryan managed to hear Elladan's frantic cry and when he saw what was coming, understood immediately. "Get back, get back!" He shouted at the navy captain, digging his heels into his horse to send the animal bolting.

Isaiah who was still trying to comprehend how he had come to find himself battling what could only be the stuff of nightmares, was not about to debate the matter. His brain could play catch up with his survival instincts later. At the moment, he was going to do the sensible thing and follow the Englishman away from that bloody monster. The soldier in him could not stand by and let innocents be killed but Christ, his bravery was fighting up an uphill battle against his sense of reality. Riding away, he looked behind long enough to see the creature becoming engulfed in arrows. There were so many of them that Isaiah couldn't even begin to count them.

"NAR!" The elf lord Glorfindel, standing in front of his archers like a general on the battlefield, shouted once again, sending another wave of arrows at the enemy.

Withdrawing to a safe distance beyond the reach of the balrog's lash, they watched the battle resume between the elves and the creature. Wave after wave of arrows rained down upon the beasts, followed by sharp spikes and lances. Glorfindel's assault was near relentless with the balrog sustaining terrible wounds. Even as it began to comprehend that it would die if it remained, the hail of lances and spikes that brought it to its knees thwarted the beast's escape. At its most vulnerable, the final charge was issued and the warriors of Tirion, led by Glorfindel wielding his great sword, fell upon the balrog and finished the beast before the eyes of an astonished audience.

"Jesus Christ," Isaiah exclaimed as he watched the carnage from a safe distance.

"What is that thing?" Purcelli asked as his captain made that awed statement.

"We call it a balrog," Legolas said watching the elven warriors led by Glorfindel fall upon the creature like a pack of wolves bringing down a large animal. "A demon of fire."

"A demon!" The First Officer of the Connecticut burst out. "Are you kidding?"

"Does that look like a joke to you?" Aaron glanced at the man.

Purcelli felt silent because he had no answer to that.

"Let's keep going," Bryan urged his horse forward. "We need to find the others, tell them what we know."

As the party continued through the ruin gates of the city once more, they rode their horses quickly past the battle raging between Glorfindel and Morgoth's dark minion. It appeared as they hurried past, trying not to become embroiled in the fighting, that Glorfindel's legend as a balrog slayer was no exaggeration or in danger of being forgotten.

Wings uncurled.

Expanding to their full strength, they flapped once, sending a blast of air hurling in all directions. The massive head reared back with a loud snort and as teeth parted, they gleamed in the dim light of the cavern. A hand stroked the long, serpentine neck, tracing across scales of dark mottled grey. The creature emitted a low rumble of content, almost like a cat purring to its master touch. Eyelid blinked but once as another flap of its wings fanned the cloak worn by the one who had nursed this particular animal from infancy to adulthood. The spines along the ridge of its back stood up in pleasure, recognizing the familiar touch of one whom had been gone for too long.

"Ghash," the Black Speech of an ancient tongue filled the cavern.

The beast snorted in answer to its name, nudging its head against the shoulder of the master absent for too long. A gesture of recognition that showed the only affection it was capable.

"I am sorry to be away for so long," Morgul said affectionately to the winged creature, "but we shall be parted no more." Running his hand along the bridge of the creature's nose flattened against its skull, Morgul slipped the leather harness into place. The beast was unconcerned by this action, having endured this before and was accustomed to the sensation of this odd device against its hide. Trusting its master, it allowed Morgul to snap the fastenings into place.

"Come Ghash," Morgul said as he led the beast across the rocky surface of the only home it had ever known. The beast had not seen the sky since its passing and only then, had it ever seen the moonlight night, never the sun or the light of day. Now with the great Lord returning, there was no need for pretext and the shackles of anonymity had been cast aside at last. This day was theirs to soar.

The others were waiting with their own mounts for the journey to begin. Tonight they would leave their underground lair and go forth to greet their own master who was travelling to them from across the sea. Not only was Sauron making a triumphant return to the world of men but he was returning to them in a manner they had never before seen. Even through the great distances, the Nazgul could sense the raw power he now wielded, they understood not how he had suddenly become the equal of any Valar. Nevertheless it had replenished them as fully as Sauron himself had been at its infusion.

Balancing on powerful hind legs with its wing partially expanded, the winged beast followed Morgul out of the chamber, allowing the Nazgul to lead it forth as it had done so many times before in the past. It had taken Irina Sadko's genius and Sauron's own power to give birth to these creatures once again and in truth, they were but a few years old. It had been Sauron's gift to the Nine, a reward for their service. Each had raised and trained each of the winged beasts, preparing them for the day when they would take to the skies unfettered. So far, the creatures had ever only known freedom for brief periods of time in the night sky because the veil of secrecy had to be maintained while Sauron plotted the destruction of Arda.

Now the time for pretext and concealment was over.

The Uruks were moving out of their underground chambers even as Morgul led Ghash to the rest of his brothers. They were arming themselves with weapons the Nazgul had trained them to use. For this war, there would be no pathetic adherence to things long past. The effect of shadow on the Age of Man had been quite effective. The Edain had created weapons befitting an army of Mordor and the Uruks no longer wielded maces and blades as they had done in the wars of Middle earth. Instead, their new armaments were machine guns and hand grenades, explosives and rocket launchers. A fitting arsenal for a more sophisticated age.

Unheard by all others except worshippers of the dark, the minions and allies of Sauron began to emerge from their hiding places. From the fell beasts deep beneath the earth, to the dormant watchers that now found new sport in open waters. Transport vehicles zigzagged across Europe, taking long concealed roads deep into the hidden enclaves beneath Malcolm Industries properties in Germany, Romania, Paris and Spain.

Six months after her death, the genius of Irina Sadko would finally reach the world and set it alight to burn.

The House of Elrond Peredhil was in a state of chaos once the orders to depart was issued.

Elladan and Elrohir returned to their father's home to see the elves preparing for war in a manner he had never seen before. Weapons emerged that had only seen the light of day whenever it was time for upkeep, never for the purpose it was crafted. Elves they had known all their lives were now clad in armor while maidens hurried across the floor in preparation for an exodus neither of the brothers had seen since their departure from Arda at the end of the Third Age.

"Mother!" Elladan called out when he saw Celebrian emerging from their father's study.

"Elladan! Elrohir!" The lady exclaimed in relief when she saw her sons before her, unscathed by the night's evil. "Thank Eru you are safe. I had feared for you both." She embraced each one after the other and repeated the gesture with Aaron when she noticed that her daughter was not amongst them.

"Where is Eve?" She demanded, her face filling with fear.

Aaron could not say it, he just couldn't. "She...she...."

"Sauron took her mother," Elrohir answered softly as he bundled his mother into his arms and offered her comfort when he told her the worst of it. "He took when he left Valinor. She is with him now."

Grateful to Elrohir for bringing this dark news to Celebrian, he struggled to maintain his composure, reminding himself that if Bryan could pull himself together after the devastating loss of Tory, then he had to remain just as strong to save Eve.

"Yes," he nodded quietly. "He is on his way back to Arda."

"Who the hell is this Sauron?" Isaiah demanded, announcing his presence since he felt like he had walked into the middle of a play and had no idea what was taking place.

"Evil," Elrond Peredhil stated at he emerged from his parlor and widened the door so they could all enter. His expression showed his own reaction to the news of his daughter's fate but as always with the leader of so many, he pushed aside such fears for the moment. His sons were comforting his wife and though he wanted to offer her his arms, Elrond had graver matters to attend. "We have much to do and little time to do it. Please come in," he said before stepping back into the room once more.

Isaiah had questions still but something about the man demanded respect even from an experienced naval captain like him. The submarine commander could not explain it and tried to recall when he had been in the presence of someone so great that it was awe-inspiring. He did not understand any of it, this strange world he had stepped into but he knew that there was danger and it looming large over his reality, beyond this almost fantasy like island.

When Elrond had heard the others outside, Frank had been poised to go find his brother, having been told by Miranda what had happened to Tory. All thoughts about dwarves and the End of Days had been driven away by the news that the great love of his brother's life had been snatched cruelly away from him by Sauron's malice. Frank had never known Bryan to fall so hard for any woman and could only begin to imagine what pain his brother was enduring. However, seeing Bryan for himself, seeing the shield over Bryan's eyes that kept those who knew him from looking to his soul, Frank knew that he had miscalculated his brother's anguish considerably.

"Bryan," Frank said meeting Bryan's stony gaze. "I....," the words failed him. What did one say to a loss like that? What could anyone say to him if Miranda had been lost that would make the least bit difference? Nothing.

"Don't," Bryan said abruptly before Frank could offer any well-meaning words of comfort. He couldn't bear to hear it at this time, he couldn't hear it without feeling the resolve he had built up since he had found Tory, shatter like glass. There was too much to be done for him to break, not when Eve was still out there and Saeran was about to unleash a second hell on earth.

Frank's protest died there and then. Bryan offered his brother a look of thanks and sought instead the other female he had loved as much as Tory. The little girl was standing next to Galadriel and suddenly Bryan knew that Fred was the only one who could make this ache inside of him bearable. Crossing the floor as the others spoke among themselves, he swept the little girl in his arms upon approaching her.

"Hello Fred," he said quietly, holding her in her arms. Thinking that it was only this morning, they had set around the breakfast table, talking about their day.

"Bryan," Miranda spoke up, "there's something about Fred...."

"I am sorry Bryan," Fred's small head leaned forward, until her forehead rested against his. It was a familiar gesture of affection between the two. "It was her time. It could not be stopped."

Bryan pulled back and looked at the child. "What?"

"To all things there is a beginning and an end," Fred's blue eyes bore into him as she explained, with a look on face that did not at all seem childlike. For a moment, Bryan swore it was not Frederica Bailey he was holding in his arms but someone else....

"She's been like this since we've arrived," Miranda offered though it was a poor explanation.

"She speaks the truth Bryan," Galadriel added. "You must listen to her. We mourn with you in your hour of loss but the child speaks words we must all listen if we are to survive this."

"What's happening to her?" Bryan demanded, not certain that he could deal with losing Fred so soon after Tory. He stared at the little girl and knew that there was something not right about her, something in her eyes that was not at all Fred.

"I am here Bryan," Fred said holding his face in her hands, her forehead dropping against his. "It was Tory's time to go. To all things that live, there is a moment of birth and a moment of death. I could not stop it when it was Tory's time. I am sorry."

"Who are you?" He asked, not really listening to her words but more interested in who was sharing his child's body.

"One who has always watched you Son of Gondor, who has always known that you bore the courage of a king, even as the son of a Steward. We will have great need of your strength in the battle that to be fought."

"Battle?" Bryan looked to the others.

"You must lead us Bryan," Galadriel explained. "The elves will go to war across the sea in Arda but we cannot do it without guidance. Too much time has passed and we no longer know the enemy we fight. Sauron is gathering an army to him, not just from Mandos but an army he had built over the centuries. They are awakening even now, emerging through the cracks of the world to meet him when he reaches the shores of Arda."

"I am not the Son of Gondor, that man is dead," Bryan retorted. "He died a hundred thousand years ago."

"And his soul lives inside of you and much of who you are gains its power from him," Fred said once more. "All your life, you've sought to finish everything you have set your mind to do, struggling to fill the emptiness left behind by another task unfulfilled. Boromir of Gondor failed his people in its greatest hour and his soul has been plagued with that defeat ever since. You must finish this Bryan, not just for him but for you."

Bryan wanted to refuse but he could not.

Fred and Galadriel were right. From the very first moment he had laid his eyes upon Fred, he had known that his responsibility to her was more than just to keep her from David Saeran's clutches. There had been more, something deep inside of him recognizing that he had failed her once and was not about to do it again. Was this then Boromir's absolution? Leading an elven army against the forces of Mordor, amassing at this very moment in the modern world?

He didn't know for certain but one thing he would do, whether or not it was destiny or absolution. Bryan did give a damn whether it was right or not or whether prophecy had deemed this to be his course. All he knew for certain was that David Saeran once Sauron, Lord of Mordor had taken from him the only thing he had ever loved more than his life.

And the bastard was going to pay.

Before the end Bryan was going to see to it.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

**The Grey Havens**

With the rest of his crew, Captain Isaiah Hill watched as the exodus from Aman.

For the rest of his life, he would be hard pressed to find another occasion when he was similarly captivated by any one image. As the fleet of ships sailed from the port city of Avallone on the Isle of Tol Eressea, he and his men experienced an unparalleled feeling of unity and shared awe watching the grey ships of the Teleri take to open sea. The submarine had surfaced, like a leviathan coming for air and with its emergence; the crew of the Connecticut witnessed the departure of the Eldar from their island. Surrounded by swirls of gentle mist, the grey ships moved across the waves, gliding with the grace that could only be accomplished by the greatest ship builders the world had ever known. Like the swans they were meant to emulate, these masterpieces of Teleri artistry began the long journey across the sea.

No one who saw this departure was unaffected. In silent awe, his men watched the ships go by and without needing to be convinced or cajoled into believing what they saw was real, they knew in their hearts that this was no fantasy. This was something so old, so beyond the hard rules of their existence, it almost bordered on faith. Unlike the intangible promises of religion, these myths were flesh and blood and they were real. Isaiah Hill found himself playing military escort to the fleet as it journeyed towards England and the cataclysmic battle that the elves were certain would come in too short a time. Isaiah had little experience in the things of which the elves spoke but the balrogs he had seen were real. The notion that a rampaging army of such creatures unleashed in a world that would have difficulty believing in their existence until it was too late, prompted him to make an unorthodox alliance.

The days following his arrival at Valinor had sped by like a whirlwind. Although the humans living on the island were eager to move quickly, the elves were far more prudent and being a soldier for most of his life, he respected their methodical approach to the campaign they were about to embark. Ferrying the elf called Cirdan on board the Connecticut to Tol Eressea, the ancient ship builder had rallied the remaining vessels left that had not be stolen by the enemy the elves called Sauron. Isaiah had found an odd kinship with Cirdan who was as fascinated by his boat as Isaiah was about the elves. During the short journey to Avallone, Cirdan had spent the voyage pummelling the Connecticut's captain and her chief engineer with a multitude of questions. Isaiah found that ship engineers and builders, whatever their background, were able to cross the language barrier when it came to discussions about their ships.

Despite his initial reservations regarding the matter, Isaiah decided to accept the advice of the elf lord Elrond and allow his men to meet and talk to the elves they had encountered on the island. The days prior to the departure had been a time of great activity. While a contingent of elves had chosen to remain in Valinor to distract the balrogs so the rest of their warriors could leave to confront their master, time was still of the essence. Though his men still had trouble believing that an army of monsters was on its way to the civilized world to level it, they could not ignore the urgency of the elves' preparation and thus were eager to lend a hand. In retrospect, Isaiah could see Elrond's wisdom in allowing the integration because men had to begin to accept that they were only the latest masters of the world and a far older and clearly, far wiser people had preceded them.

"They are beautiful are they not?" Isaiah heard the question asked of one of the Connecticut's new passengers. "It has been too long since I have seen them take flight like this."

Turning to what could truly be Coleridge's Ancient Mariner; Isaiah could not disagree with Cirdan's comment. The ship builder had insisted on making the journey on the Connecticut, desiring to learn all he could about this newest form of sea travel.

"When I was a boy," Isaiah said with a faint looking back at the fleet again, "I dreamed of being an explorer crossing the seas to discover some unknown frontier like Columbus or Marco Polo on ships like those."

"In a manner of speaking," Cirdan replied staring into the misty horizon, "you have discovered a new world."

"I've discovered an old one," Isaiah answered, feeling genuine warmth towards the old seamen. Like himself, Cirdan's love of the sea was great, if not greater than his own and Isaiah found it difficult not to like anyone who appreciated it so much. "And I don't know whether I really discovered it since other humans found it before I did." There was no disappointment in his voice as he said those words because the truth was; Isaiah knew that he was on the cusp of a great change in the world. Everything would be different after this. He knew it in his bones.

"You will be bringing us to your world in a manner we have not dared to entertain before," Cirdan countered, "it will be a new experience for us all."

"I don't doubt it," the captain agreed and then looked at Cirdan thoughtfully. "What is it like to be an immortal?"

All humans asked this question at some point. Cirdan had in his keeping an almost rehearsed response for the question but for reasons he could not discern, he chose not to offer it to his man. "It is a difficult question to answer though you might think it simple," the elf stroked his beard for a brief time before he answered. "Perhaps my answer is best understood with a question of my own. Do you know what it is like to love the sea, to breathe it, to want nothing more than to chart it from one edge of the world to another and find oneself confined interminably to an island that one cannot leave? I have built so many ships in the last ten millennia and yet, I have not experienced true joy until now, now that they are set free at last, like birds finding the sky after being caught in a cage."

Isaiah stared and nodded. "I understand."

The wind had started to pick up speed again and soon the waves were sloshing against the sides of the boat. The men had retreated beneath the hull to the comfort of shelter, leaving only himself and Cirdan on deck. "Well," he said to the older man, "if I am to bring you to the modern world, I suppose we should get underway. Come on Dan, we need to get below before we can submerge."

"Do all your people have a desire to abbreviate every name you come across?" Cirdan asked as he started to follow the captain down the hatch.

"Are you going to be complaining all the time you're on my boat?" Isaiah looked up at him with a grin.

"If it were truly a boat, there would be a view of the ocean. What point is it to be submerged beneath the waves if you do not even place a window to see it? "The elf retorted.

Isaiah rolled his eyes, "Bitch, bitch, bitch..."

**_The London Area and Terminal Control Centre _**

_**West Drayton England**_

Bernard Shaw despised the espresso machine.

An Englishman to the core, he preferred tea but this was due to his vintage rather than any personal choice. The truth was that his mum had raised him on tea and jam scones. His wife drunk it by the litre and it was sheer inundation that forced his own appreciation of the beverage. Every morning, he would come into work, make himself a pot of Earl Grey because that was the only tea for the morning and sit at his station and begin his day. It was terribly predictable and frightfully comforting. Bernard relied on this simple little sequence of events to gauge how the rest of the day would go.

Today however, the espresso machine had come.

It sat there in its corner, taking up valuable tea making space, gurgling with vile thoughts. The younger lot were thrilled and Bernard had found his normally sane workplace, turned into the latest Starbucks as they crowed and cooed over the new espresso machine. Even in the darkened room away from the tea room that would probably be called the Espresso Room soon enough, Bernard was unable to ignore it, imaginary gurgles of percolating coffee would filter through his imagination, trying to tempt him with its aromatic flavour while at the same time driving him to distraction with the ire of being seduced by something so new. A terrible sense of foreboding came over Bernard that the rest of his day was going to be similarly bothersome.

Suddenly, within the darkness of the control, his screen started flashing multiple signals. The man sat up and took a closer look, too shocked at first at the possibility that something had managed to surprise him. In this job, there was no such thing as surprises. A surprise was a BAD THING. BAD THINGS for an air traffic controller usually meant disaster. People died. No, this could not be a BAD THING. He had not been so distracted that somehow it had gotten past him. Yet there it was multiple blips on his screen and no data to accompany them. There was no flight code. Its speed was nowhere the speed of a 747 that led Bernard to leap to the awful conclusion that this could be a small private plane venturing into ATZ by mistake. The other possibility and the one that made Bernard wished he had that bloody cup of espresso after all was the nightmare faced by New York air traffic controllers on that dark day on September 11th.

Multiple signals on approach, with no call sign, no transponder or identification. The radar had detected it travelling from a northeasterly direction through the Upper Airspace and was rapidly approaching Land's End region. For a moment Bernard had the oddest notion that he was watching birds in flight for the pattern looked like migratory behaviour of geese travelling to a warmer climate. However, these were simply too fast and too large to be considered anything of the like.

"Somebody get London on the damn phone," Bernard demanded. "I've got multiple bleeps that have just dropped out of Upper Airspace and heading towards the coast of Cornwell. No identification whatsoever Find out if the bloody military is conducting exercises or something and forgotten to tell us. If they have, tell whoever is responsible to bend over and kiss his arse goodbye because he's not going to have it at the end of the day."

_**Sennen Cove Harbour**_

_**Cornwall**_

The air was heavy with the salt of the sea.

It rolled across the land the way the tides surf to shore within the sheltered cove, breaking only at the three islands of Cowloe, Big Bo and Little Bo before swirling humbly to shore. Though framed by cliffs, the community of Sennen was accustomed to the vagaries of living at the very edge of Europe. Beyond the cove was the great expanse of the Atlantic Ocean and Sennen's minor claim to fame came from being the First and Last Village in England. Not so big, even with the advent of the commercial invasion inspired by the garish Land's End amusement park or the hosting of the last terrestrial length of the trans-Atlantic cable connecting England to America, Sennen managed to keep one foot in provinciality while another poised on the tugging reach of progress.

It was a village rich in history where folks still drank at the Success Inn, a quaint little tavern that had been standing for more than a century where the only real evidence that time had not stood still around it was the fact that parking was now available. During the day Logan's Rock was the background to many a wedding picture while at night, lovers huddled in the dark, whispering passionate hopes while faced with the beauty of the shimmering sea. It was a place of power, of histories so deep, that the truth of it had seeped into the hard rock its granite cliffs. All who came here felt something of what it used to be, an echo of the past. From the Saxons kings who dined at the Rock Table to the legend of Merlin who prophesized that one day, greater kings would reach these shores. In the days of Arda, those who came to Sennen Cove knew it by many names and it was a place of reverence.

"Sennen Cove," Saeran stated as he stared at the fishing village as the small armada of ships he commanded finally saw land. "An appropriate beach head don't you think?" He asked, glancing at Eve. Blond hair blew through his hair as the dark coat he wore billowed in the wind.

Eve looked at him in confusion, not understanding the significance even though she had come to learn by now that her captor had a rather odd sense of nostalgia. Confined to her cabin for most of the journey, she was only allowed to see the deck of the ship in his company. The journey had allowed Eve to understand her situation, that for the moment, she had to bide her time. Escape on the high seas was impossible, especially when surrounded by Saeran's minions. Sharing the same space with giant spiders, wargs and every other foul thing that the dark lord had manage to unleash from Mandos dark vaults put her escape plans into some perspective and Eve realized for the sake of her child, she would have to endure the situation.

"Why?" She asked warily, knowing only that his words were ominous, laced with some hidden malice she could not fathom. "It's barely a village."

"Oh it had a far more auspicious history in the days of Middle earth," he said giving her a thoughtful look, reminding himself that though she wore a coat of meat that resembled the Evenstar and to his mind, the elf princess Luthien, she had no memories of Arda. "In the old days, these waters were home to the elves, the remnants of the Teleri built their ships here, the ones who were too proud to go to Aman when the invitation was given. I believe that this was the last place they stood in Arda before they left it forever."

Eve's eyes widened in understanding. "The Grey Havens?" She asked trying to remember what she had read in the Red Book of Westmarch, the copy transcribed from Bilbo Baggins' original diary brought to Valinor by Legolas when he had left Middle earth so long ago.

"You really do need to brush up on your elvish," Saeran retorted, "even if it is it to be a dead language in a short time. Mithlond is its proper name, though I suppose," he cast his gaze across the cover, from its cliff faces to the grey canopy of sky above, "it is appropriate."

"What are you going to do?" Eve was almost afraid to ask. There was too much pleasure in his face for her to believe that his purpose for coming to this particular place had some more sinister purpose.

Saeran said nothing.

However, the wind around them suddenly turned from a breeze to a stiff gale and Eve found herself clutching the railing as the ship surged over the choppy waters towards the shore. Hair whipping her face while the cold air bit into her skin, she squinted hard seeing the beach closing in on them. "What are you doing?" She cried out, "You're going to drive the ship right into the sand!"

"I have no need of these archaic elven transports once I reach land," he said coolly, seemingly unaffected by the tempest raging around him.

Behind the lead ship, the others were similarly propelled by the sudden gale and on the deck, Eve could see Saeran's minions howling and screeching in some sort of perverse pleasure. Overhead the dragons circled the flotilla like carrion, their enormous shape obscured vaguely by the clouds. The Watchers seemed unaffected by the uneasy sea and Eve's stomach hollowed at the thought that very soon; these monstrosities would be running rife throughout the modern world.

God help us.

"Brace yourself my dear," Saeran remarked as the swan ship of the Teleri cut through the waves, breaking the blue sea into white foam as the keel began to scrape shore.

Beneath her feet, Eve could feel the deck shudder, wood tearing and splintering as the vessels were forced forward, ripping through the sandy floor of the seabed. From. From the shore, she could see people screaming in shock, fingers pointing at the rampaging juggernaut of ships invading the shore of their quiet village. Those who were on the beach were running in fear, uncertain of how this calamity had come about, knowing only that it would kill them if they did not depart immediately. Eve watched the chaos on the shore, her stomach becoming knots as the gale swept through the town, causing windows and doors to shut, trees to bend impossibly; a whirlwind of tragedy was coming and the wind was jus the beginning.

A tremendous groan of wood tore through her ears as the bottom of the boat dug deeper into the sand, ploughing the seafloor all the way up to the beach. The grey ship came to an abrupt halt, snapping the mast in two and bringing down the sail. Eve dropped to the floor from the sudden stop, covering her head for fear of being hit by falling debris. The former lord of Mordor seemed unconcerned. His attention was elsewhere.

The rest of the fleet arrived at Arda in the same manner. Smashing through the small collection of fishing boats moored along the shore, they were forced into the sand by the powerful gale generated by the dark lord. The shoreline became a debris field of wood and bodies for those who had not been able to leave quickly enough. Blood turned the white sand red and in that brief moment of silence when disaster had occurred and reaction to it had yet to occur, Eve knew it was just the beginning.

When the shock of the destruction had faded away, the locals began reacting to the calamity, emerging in their numbers to investigate what had been the cause. Eve wanted to shout at them to stay back but knew that it was a pointless exercise, already she could see Saeran's horde pouring over the decks of each ship, making their way quickly to shore. It had been a long time since they fed and it appeared this little village was going to break their long famine.

The shock of catastrophe soon faded into screams of horror as the black spiders clambered over the railings of the ships, landing on the soft sand, their arachnid bodies scattering throughout the new feeding ground. The Watchers pushed out as far as the shore would take them, their lengthy tentacles more than capable of snaring victims fleeing in terror and disbelief at what they were seeing. Eve watched the carnage of blood and screams, her eyes widening at the horror of the spiders trapping their prey, the wargs running down Sennen Cove's terrified victims, ending the chase in a forceful snap of jaws and blood curdling screams that ended all too abruptly.

Eve dropped to her knees, sick with horror, retching all over the wooden deck as Saeran watched on, revelling in the sight of his minions running rampant throughout the village, destroying and pillaging. The air grew thick and heavy with the scent of blood, profaning the salty air of the sea.

"You bastard," Eve said unable to look, her eyes frozen on the deck. She wanted to shut her ears, so the screams would not reach her but there was no such escape.

However David Saeran, known once as Sauron, Lord of Mordor, was not listening to his captive. Instead his eyes were fixed upon the grey sky, seeing not the dragons that were circling the skies but other winged denizen in his service who were finally making their appearance since he nurtured their creation deep beneath the Carpathian Mountains.

"Perhaps you should go below," Saeran ordered, looking at her at last.

They were coming. He could sense them.

"What?" She asked almost panting, exhausted. She was a victim trapped in a nightmare and there was no escape. What did he intend by sending her below deck? What did he think she could not see after all this?

"I think it is best that you go below," there was almost urgency in his request.

Eve would have complied but curiosity got the better of her and she looked up at the sky to see what it was that had captured his attention so. At first she thought they were the dragons but then realized they were smaller but no less terrifying. With their long serpentine necks and flapping wings, Eve felt her terror renew as she saw the cloaked figures riding them.

"Oh my god," she gasped as her eyes widened in recognition.

A screech, sharp and piercing penetrated her ears and Eve found herself crying out in pain as her hands flew to their ears. As the dragons escorted the new arrivals to the shore, Eve was trembling hard as she saw a new peril amidst the massacre taking place already. Another followed the first bellow until all nine of the beasts had sounded same cry of allegiance to their master as they landed on the sandy shore, their talons digging into the sand. For a brief time all Eve could hear was the sound of flapping wings.

Perched on their backs was the Nine.

No longer in their dark suits, the Nine hid themselves within cloaks of black, billowing in the wind generated by the flapping wings of their dark mounts. Through the shadows of their hoods, their crimson eyes pierced the darkness like knives through flesh. One by one, they climbed off the winged beasts and approached slowly, with the graceful air of a predator about to pounce, towards their lord and master. Heads bowed reverently, they did not meet the eye of their god but dropped to their knees instead on the sandy ground beneath the bow of the boat.

He could feel their joy, as much as Nazgul could feel such things that is, their genuine pleasure at knowing that he had returned to them. Not only had he returned to them, he had done so with far more power than they had ever imagined he possessed. Their reunion did not only see his restoration but theirs as well and once again, they had opportunity to correct the failures of the Third Age. This time, there would be no defeat.

"Rise, my servants," Saeran ordered, a small smile of pleasure crossing his lips as he took a moment to savour the sweet taste of triumph he felt at seeing Mithlond reduced to this mindless destruction. The creatures he had freed from the vault were rampaging through this tiny community and soon they would spread out across the globe, infesting Arda like a pestilence that no one could stop until the world was breathed in flame.

"What orders my lord?" Morgul spoke, his malevolent voice sending shivers through Eve's skin. The Witch King's hood shifted slightly and Eve knew that he was staring at her.

"We go home to Mordor," Saeran answered, "and see to it that if prophecy comes to pass as the elves predict than the world shall be destroyed along with us. This time, we fight not to win but for revenge. Can anything be sweeter?"

"No my master," Morgul hissed in answer, a chorus of similarly sinister voices agreed in turn.

"Then we push on for Mordor," Saeran declared turning to Eve. His outstretched hand like the handshake of soul stealing deal with the devil.

Eve almost spat at him but she remembered what he could do to her or worse yet, to the baby oblivious to the hell she was presently enduring, safe with her belly. For her child, she had to survive this and though bile rose in her throat as she regarded his hand, she had no choice but to take it.

"We might civilize you yet," he smiled, his triumph achieving a new level of height.

"Go to hell," she bit back, allowing herself that much defiance.

"I think I rather bring it to me," he smiled.

"Master," Morgul spoke up, never understanding his lord's taste for human flesh but kept that thought to himself. "What of this?" he looked back at what was once Sennen Cove.

Saeran stared coldly at the village whose inhabitants were proving to be a poor meal to satiate the ravenous hunger of his hordes. The dragons were circling above, waiting for him to tell them what to do. They had been snatching fleeing villagers and snacking since their arrival but now Saeran would put them to _real_ work. With the Nine here at last, the conflagration of Arda could begin in earnest.

"When the last of them have seen inside of our minions innards," he said icily, "burn it down. Burn it _all_ down."

"Confirmed Station," Captain Richard Wilson said as he charted the progress of the objects on his radar, "the bandits have disappeared off my bloody screen. I'm wondering if they're crabbing about below range…"

No more than twenty minutes earlier, Captain Richard Wilson had been ordered to his Tornado F3 following a report from the LATCC boys at West Drayton that nine unidentified crafts had entered English air space and making their way across Britain. With the state of world politics these days and the shadow of September 11 still looming large over the civilised world, nine planes of undetermined origins or flight plan for that matter had such an enormous potential for disaster that the Tornadoes were deployed immediately.

"They could have landed," Lieutenant Wallace Green suggested through Wilson's headset.

"We would have seen it," the RAF captain retorted, disliking the possibility that nine bandits could simply vanish under his watch. Losing them meant at this moment, those bandits could be on their way to dive bombing a bus full of nuns or something similarly heinous.

"We would still seen some sign of descent," Wilson insisted. A cloudbank approached and though it was unlikely, the pilot took his bird towards it, just in case the buggers were playing pussy in the clouds. "Let's keep at it until we find those kites, they can't bee too far away."

It was a false hope but Wilson was determined not to give up. They were here somewhere, possibly possessing some form of stealth. Maybe it was the Yanks conducting some kind of exercise but even so, there were jurisdictional clearances that could not be ignored, no matter how big those bastard had gotten for their boots lately.

The Tornado disappeared into the clouds with the sky around the sleek fighter plane vanishing in place of thick cumulus. With only radar to guide him, Wilson's instruments told him his fool's errand into the cloudbank was as fruitless as he had suspected. There was nothing here. Frowning behind his facemask, the RAF captain came to the conclusion that there was little left to do but return to station. Suddenly, his radar came so quickly to life that it startled Wilson in his seat.

"I've got something…" he started to say when a shadow descended over the cockpit. The pilot looked up just in time to see something impossibly large, with the wingspan that seemed to block out the sun, swoop down on him.

"JESUS CHRIST!" He cried out.

The beast landed squarely on top of the fighter, its weight dipping the nose of the craft violently. In his grasp, the controls struggled with protest as the plane began to enter a dangerous tailspin. Unfortunately, Captain Wilkins was in no position to notice it or rectify the situation. His eyes were staring wide through his visor at the serpentine features of the thing that was staring at him with crimson eyes through the glass bubble of the cockpit cover. Covered in scales, the thing was huge and it seemed to grin, pulling back what passed for lips to reveal a mouth full of serrated teeth as long as his forearm.

Through his headset he could hear Green screaming, "Bloody hell! It's a fucking monster! It's tearing through the…" the voice went dead with silence.

Wilkins was in little position to offer comment as the creature firmly latched on to his plane was at this time slamming its long tail against the metal, trying to crack it open like a shell. The plane spiralled downwards even more precariously, its descent creating a corkscrew of exhaust fumes and cloud trails. Frantically, the man struggled to regain control of the Tornado. The creature was bigger and the weight dragged the plane towards the earth as if it were tied to a large rock, flung into the depths.

"Mayday!" Wilkins cried out helplessly into his headset. "Mayday, I can't get it off!"

Suddenly the smashing against the side of the plane came to a stop and Wilkins gathered his wits long enough to look through the cockpit to see the creature…. the dragon…his mind was telling him even though he couldn't bring himself to believe it yet, rearing its long head backward, the crest that ran along the ridge of its nose down its long neck, flared. There was a moment of clarity where Wilkins watched in horrific fascination at what the thing was about to do. Those teeth gleamed as its mouth opened and without a warning a gust of fire exploded out of its throat.

Crikey Dick, you're going to be the first pilot in RAF history to be killed by a real life fire-breathing dragon.

The heat impacted against the glass, turning it black almost immediately. The jets of flame did not cease and inside the cockpit, the hapless pilot felt the temperature rising.

"Mayday!" He shouted as he felt his air become even more heated. The torrent of fire continued until the cockpit glass was completely obscured and he could see nothing above. Unfortunately, there was no reprieve as the Tornado continued its deadly tailspin. Fleetingly, he saw the gauges on the instrument panel, showing how quickly he was approaching ground. Perhaps, he could eject. The propulsion might give him enough velocity for the cockpit to dislodge the damn thing. Realising he had little choice, he resigned that it was his one chance of surviving.

It was a chance dashed with the sound of glass cracking.

Under the intense heat, the glass began to fissure and he was the cracks crisscross across the cockpit bubble. One after the other, they appeared, like spidery webs spreading out even further and further across. In a desperate attempt to keep the bubble from shattering, Wilkins placed a gloved palm against the glass, making a feeble effort to brace it. Even through the leather, he could feel the heat and as he saw the altitude gauge crying out that the ground was coming nearer and nearer, he wondered which death was preferable.

When the glass shattered and Captain Richard Wilkins went to meet his maker with a final burst of flame that consumed him whole, he realised belatedly that there really was no difference.

She was going to be sick.

She was going to be sick and it had little to do with the nausea associated with her pregnancy. This sensation of disgust, that hollowed out her insides like a flesh of a fruit being scooped out with a spoon was the result of something far removed from the sanctity of growing life. This was a malignancy that found its root in cruelty and horror. Eve did not want to look but closing her eyes and shutting out the images could not stop the screams, the terrible, agonized screams of the massacred inhabitants of Sennen Cove. In the end, she had sank to her knees on the soft sand of the shore, her hands covering her ears because she could bear it no more.

As a former police woman, she was used to blood. She was used to seeing the very depths of human ugliness. Crack addicts, serial killers, drive by killers, rapists, molesters and murderers, she had seen the very worst of humanity's sins and managed somehow, to retain the hope that people were good that the world was a place of light.

Tonight, however, had changed all that.

Never again would her world be that secure. Tonight, she had caught a glimpse of true evil and knew that the memory of it would never leave her.

Tonight she had seen it in David Saeran's face.

The Lord of Mordor did not move from his place in the sand, standing like a god who had shaped the world in seven days and had come to the conclusion that he liked not what he had created and set about to destroy it all. Sennen Cove was that ruined tapestry now, a mosaic of broken bodies, of flaming buildings and screaming victims, struggling to escape and unaware that their killers were merely offering them a brief respite before the tearing resumed.

After all, what animal did not like to play with its food?

She knew what he was doing of course. He had explained it to her almost with relish, perfectly aware that with each clarification, he was sealing her own fate with words of steel. Each answer was a rivet in the cage he was building around her, showing her how inescapable her prison was as he revealed to her in bloody horror, the consequences of any attempt to escape. Even sheathed in her womb, her baby was not safe from him. Saeran wanted Eve stripped of all sense of power and cursing him inwardly, Eve knew that he was succeeding.

She was beyond horror now.

Her only hope for salvation lay in Aaron's and the elves ability to defeat Saeran as they had before and even so, that hope was slim. What he had done Sennen Cove showed her just how far he was willing to go, just how much power lay at his disposal. He had wanted to take revenge on the last place the elves had called their own before taking the Straight Road, the last place in Arda they had been seen. He hadn't just avenged himself on the elves that left here, he had salted the earth so that they could never again set foot on Mithlond without sensing the atrocity that had been carried out here.

"We should go," Saeran said to her, surveying the destruction with a pleased destruction. A small hint of a smile formed when he saw a young girl having somehow survived, emerging from her hiding place only to be set upon by a dozen spiders. Her screams as she was torn to shreds by their sharp talons warmed his ears like music and noted that Eve had heard too, for she was sobbing louder.

"You bastard…" she somehow managed to curse through her tears..

"Still coherent," he met her gaze with a smirk, "how resilient of you. No matter, there will be plenty of time for that to change my dear Eve. I am about to recreate the world and I won't take seven days."

"You're no God!" She hissed. "You're insane!"

"Absolutely," he said motioning the Nazgul who had been standing by him like an honour guard. "However, I do believe we are done here. It's time to fly Eve."

"What?" She stared at him, still trying to grasp what fresh horror he intended on inflicting on her. She noticed the Nazgul approaching her and scrambled away. As if there were somewhere she could even go, she thought sardonically when Eve gave up her attempt and allowed the creature's gloved hand to wrap around her arm. It felt like ice against the skin.

"Come…." The wraith ordered, pulling her roughly to her feet. Over head, the flapping of wings could be heard and Eve looked up at the dark sky to see the winged beasts the Nazgul had used for their transport descending towards the ground.

"NO!" She protested.

"Don't be tiresome Eve," Saeran replied, enjoying her terror so very much. "We have to leave. I have business to attend elsewhere."

"Let me go!" She struggled as the wraith dragged to the animal that had set down on the shore a few feet away. "I'm not getting on that thing!"

Saeran nodded at his servant, who promptly silenced her with a backhanded blow across the face. Eve saw it coming but couldn't react fast enough to avoid being hit. The cold hand struck her hard enough to force the air out of her lungs and consciousness from her mind. With a stunted gasp, the world went dark around her and she knew no more.

The Nazgul swept the unconscious woman into his cold arms as his master mounted the winged beast, moving with a brutal grace that kept her from touching the ground and borne away like a lifeless rag doll. Saeran took the leather reins of the winged beast's harness and regarded the rest of his sentinels, who were waiting for his order as they themselves prepared to fly.

"The word is sent I take it?" He regarded Morgul.

"Yes my master," Morgul nodded, his eyes looking subserviently at the ground instead of at his lord. "They sensed your presence immediately after you departed the Eldar prison. They have awoken in every corner of the world and are drawing to your seat of power."

"Good," Saeran said with a smile, "and the Uruks?"

"They are _all_ awakened my lord," Morgul answered again, "they are hungry for man flesh and the locals we have been providing them are growing inadequate to sate their stomachs."

"Naturally," Saeran replied. "That's the way it is with pets. You've never had a goldfish Morgul so you don't know."

"I wasn't aware that you had one either Master," Morgul could not resist returning.

"I was born into this body as an infant Morgul. It amused Melkor to buy me one when it was eight years old," Saeran snorted as he dug his heels into his mount, causing the beast's wings to flapped dramatically in reaction, "for that alone, I was happy to kill him."

Aaron found him on the deck, staring into the darkness of the ocean that surrounded them. The boat was continuing through the waves without pause, keeping pace with the second flotilla of ships to leave Aman this day. There had not been much chance to talk, what with Saeran's escape and all the consequences that followed. However now that they had a brief minute to catch breath, Aaron found his thoughts centred on the only other person who could possibly understand what he was enduring by Eve's abduction.

"Bryan?" He called out to the MI6 man who had said little since they had got underway.

"Yeah," Bryan turned his head slightly in response.

"Are you alright?"

His shoulders dropped with a sigh, "I'll live."

"That's not the same as being alright," Aaron interjected.

"Spare me the analysis," Bryan said shortly. "I just want to bloody left alone for awhile."

"I understand," the psychiatrist nodded starting to withdraw. One thing Aaron had come to learn about Bryan during their acquaintance, was the man's aversion to psychiatrists.

"I just wanted to see if you were alright."

Another sigh escaped into the air like trapped gas. "Thanks mate," he said quietly, "but I'm not ready to talk about I feel. We've got bigger things to worry about at the moment, getting Eve back for instance."

Aaron stiffened as Bryan inadvertently turned the tables on him and he felt the groundswell of fear and worry for his wife surface with surprising ease through all his conscious efforts to ignore it.

"Yeah, if she's still alive." Aaron could not keep himself from saying under his breath. He could imagine no reason why Saeran would keep her alive and every reason for the man to want her dead. What greater act of vengeance could there be than to take the life of his enemy's wife and child?

"She's alive." Bryan spoke with a voice ground up with glass, sharp and biting. "He did Tory too quick. There was no chance to make me twist in the wind, wondering if she's still alive or not. He wants more than revenge, he wants to make you pay a hundred times before he actually kills her. He's going to let her live just long enough for you think that you might get her back and then kill her."

Bryan did not need to see the shudder in Aaron's being to know it occurred. Bryan knew evil men and while Saeran seemed destined to occupy a level all on his own, Bryan had seen enough of torture and villainy to know exactly what the dark lord had planned for Aaron. "But he's underestimated us this time, he thinks we're coming alone. No Valar or Gandalf, just us and the elves." Bryan was staring into the sea, his mind formulating plans upon plans, the realisation that was clear to him now that he had time to think about it. His grief for Tory was locked away and when he could, he would mourn her but not right now. Ever the soldier, he kept aside his personal feelings for the job that needed to be done.

"What do you mean?" Aaron inquired, not quite following because unlike Bryan, he did not know how to segregate his feelings as efficiently as the former MI6 agent.

"Fred," Bryan said firmly, having placed a considerable amount of the voyage into trying to determine what was Fred's role in all this was. The little girl, who was the only other person in the world who meant as much to him as Tory, was not alone in her young body. Something else was in there with her. Something unexpected. It was a wildcard he was certain not even Saeran had expected.

"Fred?" Aaron spoke up and then let the implication set in. Yes, Fred. "Who do you think is in there with her? One of the Valar?"

"No," Bryan shook his head. "Whatever Saeran did to play his get out of jail card, he had to make sure that the Valar were out of the way. He's found a way around them, left them trapped in that dimension where Valinor used to be. If they could have gotten out, they'd done it already when those balrog beasties went trampling over Tirion. No it's something else. I have a feeling that Galadriel knows what it is and maybe Elrond too. I can't see any reason why they'd be so quick to leave the island and sail to our world unless they were told to do so by someone they couldn't refuse."

"Well maybe the submarine had something to do with it," Aaron pointed out, however, he suspected that Bryan was right. Fred was down below with Miranda and the kids but it was clear that she wasn't herself. It gave him some comfort to know that despite the fact the world seemed hurtling forward towards catastrophe, Miranda Miller was nevertheless still fixing dinner for her children and Frank was putting them to bed as if it were any other day. Perhaps that was the strength of families, he thought inwardly and prayed that he and Eve would have a chance to find out.

"I'd love to see the report that Isaiah bloke is going to be writing to Norfolk," Bryan said finding a little humour in the fact that their tiny armada was being accompanied by a Seawolf Class nuclear submarine. Not exactly the best way for the human race to be introduced to the ancients in their elegant swan ships, descending on the English coastline.

"Could be worse," Aaron replied. "The guy could have considered us a threat and blown us to bits."

"I highly doubt that," Legolas Greenleaf stepped on the wooden deck to interject.

"I hate it when you sneak up on us like that," Aaron threw the elf a look, always finding it disconcerting how the Eldar could be so stealthy in their approach. "One of these days I'm getting you a bell."

Legolas smirked, accustomed to these comment from the humans who still could not fathom their ability to move so silently. "Captain Isaiah bears a striking resemblance to Imrahil."

"Who?" Bryan turned around from the rail and regarded the elf.

"Imrahil," Legolas explained, "Prince of Dol Amroth. The captain's manner is much like the Prince. In the War of the Ring, Imrahil was a great supporter of Aragorn in his claim to the throne."

"Are we going to keep running into people we knew from the past?" Bryan exclaimed, uncertain whether or not he ought to be pleased that Captain Hill had some history with them. Bryan did not relish having to tell the man that about a hundred thousand years ago, his previous incarnation had been a lord of an ancient kingdom. It was not wise to upset a man who had in his possession, several ICBMS.

"Eve said it's a cosmic turntable," Aaron retorted, recalling the night she had made that statement and realising that it was at that moment, that he had fallen completely in love with her, _again_. "We're destined to meet the same people even if we were different in the past."

"Bloody wonderful," Bryan grumbled. "I'm going to see how Fred or whoever she is, is doing." Solitude was not something he was not going to receive tonight, despite his fondness for his companions.

Neither Legolas or Aaron spoke until Bryan had brushed past them, nothing the haunted veil over his eyes that not even his formidable control could hide.

"I fear for him," Legolas said a few seconds after Bryan had departed. "His heart is broken even if he hides it well."

"He loved her," Aaron shrugged, hearing nothing new in Legolas' words. "He can't be any other way. I'm praying I don't find out what he is feeling first hand."

Legolas reached for Aaron's shoulder and offered comfort with a light squeeze. "Sauron will not kill her, not until you are there to see it. And when that moment comes, we will do everything we can to stop him."

Aaron nodded sombrely, "I hope you are right, old friend."

"Go and rest," Legolas urged. "You are no good to us exhausted and we will need all your strength if we are to re-enter your world in numbers great as these," he glanced at the ships sailing around them.

"Alright," Aaron conceded the request since he was feeling somewhat drained and truth be known, he wouldn't mind a little sleep to forget the worries plaguing his waking hours. "Thank you Legolas," he said and turned to leave. As he neared the steps leading into the cabin, he saw Ariel emerge from below. The lady was wrapped in a warm cloak, her dark hair pulled behind her head in an efficient ponytail. Anyone who saw her would know instantly that she was an elf as her delicately pointed ears indicated. Still, Aaron thought that she appeared more faerie than elf.

"Your husband is sending me to bed," Aaron remarked as he passed her.

"He does display some wisdom on occasion," she said with a wry smile. "Sleep well Aaron, I am certain that thing will appear better in the morning."

Aaron didn't believe her but he was grateful for the encouragement. "I'm sure it will," he said half- heartedly before disappearing below.

"The mood is heavy on this vessel tonight," Ariel stated as she approached her husband.

"It is," Legolas nodded in agreement. Tory's death, Sauron's escape, their disconnection from the Valar and the destruction of Tirion, all of it left a dark shadow of gloom over all of them. There could be no denying what they faced when they returned to Arda. Not only did they have to contend with Sauron's agents but would also have to reintroduce themselves to a race who believed their existence to be little more than myths with no basis in fact.

"Husband," Ariel looked at him with purpose, "we must talk."

Something in her tone drew Legolas' gaze away from the sea to sapphire pools of her eyes. A state of uneasiness shifted free inside of him but he could not fathom why she would engender such a feeling in him. "I thought that is what we were doing, my love." He answered, staring at her in puzzlement.

"Am I husband?" She asked leaning on the railing next to him. "Am I the one you love?"

Legolas blinked. "What in Eru's name do you mean?" He demanded. "Of course you are the one I love!"

"Think carefully on that question for we both know that it is not as straight forward as it may seem," Ariel returned swiftly.

"Wife, I do not comprehend what you mean…"

"You see Legolas," she said looking at the porthole of the cabin through which she could see some of their friends, going about their business, unaware of the observation. "When Eve met Aaron, she was not drawn immediately to him or the memory of what they once had. All she had; was a feeling to tell her that she loved this man once and would do so again. She remembered nothing of the man he had been, nothing of Aragorn Elessar. It is the same for Miranda and Frank, no memory of the people they had been, no knowledge of the past, merely a feeling. They had the chance to know each other again, without expectation of their past selves to hinder them."

"I suppose," Legolas stared at her hard, determining by the intensity of her gaze and her voice that he was on the cusp of something he should be wary of. "I still do not see…"

"No you do not," she said softly. "You do not see very well at all. To you, I am your Melia, nothing else. One hundred thousand years I have been at your side and not once do you see me as Ariel, born in Tirion to Anais and Didriel of Aqualonde. You will not have children with me because you have had them with her, when you cry out in passion, is it my face you see or hers?"

Legolas was stunned.

"How can you even assume such a thing?" He almost exploded. "Of course I see you and not Melia!"

However, even as he said it, he knew he was not entirely sincere. Elves were not prone to untruths but this one he could not bring himself to confess, even to himself. The enormity of it was too much. Ariel had been reincarnation of his wife. His soul had known it the instant he had laid eyes upon her. How else could they have married if she were not Melia? Unlike humans who could discard their mates at will, elves chose their mates only once and maintained that choice even if one half of that union was dead. He had known what he risked when he chose Melia for his and though fifty years with her was a mere shadow in the lifetime of an elf, he had been content even if it meant going on without her. When he arrived at Valinor with Gimli, he knew immediately that Melia was returned to him in the form of Ariel.

But the maid before him was not entirely Melia was she? Just as Aaron Stone was not Aragorn Elessar as he had been when he ruled Gondor, Ariel was not the Melia he remember and yet that had not stopped him from seeing her that way, had it?

"When you fought the balrog, when you were dazed, you did not call my name, you called hers." Ariel accused.

"I did n…." but the words failed him because his memory was as good as hers and he knew he had done just that. He had called Ariel, Melia. "I am sorry," he said after a pause. "I did not mean to."

Being proved right did not make her feel any better and the truth was now laid before them both and he could not deny it. Indeed, he was unable to deny it. "I am not Melia, I may share her soul but I remember nothing of her. I know only that I, Ariel, love you. I always will and if that comes from Melia I can live with that but I cannot live with you seeing nothing else. I am a person who is deserving of her husband's love as much any woman, not merely the representative of his memory of someone who no longer exists."

"I will try," he said feebly and knew that it would not be enough. He thought of all the things he had said to her over the years, the demands he had made upon her. Yes, he had denied her children because as far as he had been concerned, his child rearing days were behind him. He had shared that experience with Melia already, having raised a son and daughter, Thalionhis and Annunmelian. There seemed no reason to revisit it. He had assumed that Ariel would share this view since….

Oh sweet Eru.

How ill he had behaved! Legolas was reeling in mortification because he had proven himself even guiltier of her accusation by the train of thought he had just embarked upon. He had assumed that Ariel would share the same view because Melia had raised a son and daughter with him.

"I do not know if I am willing to accept that," Ariel replied, sensing the pain he felt but could feel little empathy because her own anger and frustration as bubbling to the surface after so many years in suppression.

"What do you mean?" Legolas stared at her sharply. "Will you not give me a chance to prove myself to you?"

"You have been unable to change in ten millennia," she pointed out. "What makes you believe that you will be able to do so now?"

"This is not the time for such thoughts Ariel," Legolas implored, a deep sense of despair rising up from within his stomach at the realisation that he might have lost his mate as surely as Bryan, only he had no one to blame but himself. "These are the End of Days and neither of us may survive it. Do you wish to embark upon this course now?"

"That I make this demand of you at this time, was not my intention. However, my discontent has been growing more pronounced of late and today," she blinked, trying to hide the tears that wanted to come but supposed he knew to well not to notice her anguish. "Today when you called her name not mine, you broke my heart Legolas. You broke my heart and I did not deserve that. I have been a good wife to you. I have played the role you wish me to play, hoping that in time you would see me, not her. Perhaps that was my folly, that I allowed you that when I should have been more forceful in the presentation of my own identity. Whatever the cause of it, I do not wish the continuance of this marriage under these circumstances."

With that, Ariel brushed past him, unable to trust herself to speak further on this. His grief would cave her resolve and for once, Ariel was determined to remain strong. For once, she would be selfish instead of selfless.

"We are not humans," he protested, grabbing her arm to stop her from leaving. "We do not break our vows to each other so carelessly."

"The vows you made were not to me," she said pulling her arm back, her eyes boring into him mercilessly. "They were made to _her_."

And Legolas could do nothing to stop her as she left him because inside, he knew it was true.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

**Homecoming**

For Cirdan, returning to Mithlond was a journey he had longed to make.

In the age of Arda, Mithlond had been his home and it was the course he knew best when returning to the land he and his kind had departed so many years ago. For those who had travelled with him on that last journey, this homecoming was met with excitement, despite the grave circumstance that brought them here. During the last leg of the journey, he had asked to be returned to his ship from the steel beast he had been travelling. While Cirdan found many wonders with the vessel that Isaiah Hill captained, he missed the sensation of wind in his hair and the taste of salty sea air. Like Earendil who sail the sky with the light of the simaril on his brow, Cirdan only felt alive when he sailed great oceans of the world.

From the bow of the tall white ship that led the elven fleet to Mithlond, Cirdan sought out the welcome sight of land in the distance. Yet even as he did so, he could feel the gradual presence of something dark and sinister settling upon his heart. He knew not what this portent could mean but it bode ill for them he was certain and the closer they drew to the shore, the greater his sense of unease became.

"You sense it too," Elrond Peredhil stated announcing his arrival with that grim question. The stare of Imlardis' former lord was fixed upon the same stretch of land and his expression mirrored Cirdan's anxiety.

With him was the girl Fred, the child that all knew was not the same one who had come to them a scarce year ago. She had become something else.

"He has preceded us to Mithlond," the girl said dryly.

Cirdan shuddered at her manner but this was soon forgotten in the light of her words. "Oh Eru," he breathed softly as he began to make out the column of smoke rising from the shore in the distance. "What has he done?"

"What Sauron does best," she answered sadly. "Destroy."

XXXXXXXXXX

Mithlond or rather the town of Sienna Cove was rorted.

As the elves and humans alike stepped onto its shores, there were no sounds except that of dying cackle of fire. The air was wet with the scent of blood. To those with the keener senses, it was all too evident what had taken place here. Nothing remained standing. Buildings were reduced to burnt-out shells, their foundations and supports were nothing but charred debris. Trees were now dead stumps and everything that lived in Mithlond was reduced to ash.

"Oh my god," Aaron broke the silence.

"God had nothing to do with this," Bryan declared turning away, somewhat prepared for scenes like this even before they had caught sight of land. Saeran was back for revenge and it was only natural that this place, which held such significance for the elves, would be his first port of call.

"He's not going to be hard to find like this," Eric added, stating the obvious. "If this is what he's going to do to the rest of the world, we just have to follow the bodies."

"One man did this?" Isaiah exclaimed as he took in the sight along with his elven and human companions.

"He's not alone." Fred explained. "He is more powerful than he has ever been. He has taken Melkor's power for his own and has called to him all the creatures that served him through the ages. The ones he fashioned himself."

Miranda's breath quickened. "The Nazgul."

"And more," Fred continued to speak. "They are crawling out of the darkness from every corner of this world. They have been waiting for a long time to rally and the Lord of Mordor has given them purpose again. He is drawing them to him even as we stand here."

"Then we've got to get moving," Bryan took the lead, "Cirdan, you need to take the fleet and move along the coast. If Sauron's headed for London, that's the best place to meet him. If we kill as many of those bloody things he's got working for him in London, we might be able to stop him before he heads for Romania."

"Romania?" Isaiah, the novice in all this looked at his companions with puzzlement.

"In our time," Legolas spoke up, "it was called Bara-dur. It was the seat of his power. It exists in what you now called Romania."

A grim silence fell over the group as Prince of Mirkwood made that statement.

Bara-dur.

It was a realm they thought was done, its evil they believed to be vanquished. The idea that they would fight another battle, perhaps the battle to end all battles was an ominous feeling. However, it was not a silence Bryan could indulge. Saeran had taken Tory from him and if the desire for revenge could fuel an effort to save the world than so be it. The tactician in him could see they didn't have a lot of time. Saeran's actions on this small community proved that he didn't care who was aware of him now. The veil of secrecy this lot had been so particular about keeping over throughout history had been abandoned and that made Bryan very concerned.

"Come Cirdan," Elrond placed a hand on the former lord of Mithlond. "Do not look. Do not allow Sauron to place a shadow upon your heart." The elf lord spoke kindly to his friend.

The old mariner could not avert his eyes and why should he? Mithlond had been his home. From these shores, he had left Arda forever and to return now to this destruction, broke his heart.

"Right," Bryan interrupted loudly and addressed everyone present. "I know this is hard for you and your people Elrond but we have to move NOW." He stared everyone down.

"Bryan take it easy…" Miranda started to say.

"I'm sorry luv but we can't," he returned promptly and met the eyes of those before him. "We just _can't_. I'd love to say we ought to take a minute to mourn the dead but we don't have the time. We've got to move now while we have the time. Saeran was ready to rain ICBMs on the planet the last time we dealt with him, what do you think he's prepared to do now?"

"Oh my god…." Miranda's eyes widened as understanding began to fill her thoughts.

"WHAT?" Aaron exclaimed somewhat unnerved by anything that could leave the blonde shaken.

"It's what he wants," Legolas said grimly, feeling his stomach hollow with horror. "His minions survive because they are bound to him. No weapon of man can harm them so long as he exists. Using your world's terrible weapons against him will accomplish only one thing; poisoning your earth so neither Eldar nor Edain can survive here. He and his, however, will manage quite well."

"Exactly," Bryan nodded.

He had spent the journey from Valinor trying to discern what Saeran's plans would be once the dark lord had returned to the world of men and it was so clear if you knew what the bastard wanted to achieve. After all, Saeran had spent years engineering his army of Uruks. He had planned to use them _after_ the bombs from one year ago had been deployed. Everything he had done was to engineer an empire that would emerge after the nuclear fires had died with only the remnant of a beaten human population to contend with.

"Are you saying he's trying to goad us into a fight?" Aaron declared horrified.

"Yes," Fred spoke in that unearthly voice before Bryan could answer, "and when your people discover that your guns are useless against Sauron and his dark army, they will in their desperation, turn to the deadlier devices in your arsenal. They will use your weapons of mass destruction against him and learn all too late, that they have no effect on creatures of shadow. However by then the Earth will be so tainted that what is left of your people will be no match for him and his army."

"And as he has broken the barriers between Arda and the Undying lands, we will be poisoned too though I think our deaths will be a prolonged agony." Elrond concluded the terrible summation of Sauron's dark plans.

"Jesus Christ," Isaiah said wandering away from the group, sickened by the magnitude of Saeran's evil. A military man, he could almost see it played out as the little girl had so eerily described. Of course they would turn to nuclear weapons when all else had failed. It would be inconceivable to the powers that be that any creature could be impervious to that kind of weapon. If it appeared that they could defeat Saeran's army, he could imagine NATO coming to that decision. Better to risk a few thousand casualties to wipe out a seemingly indestructible enemy.

It would come down to numbers and though it could be considered a good tactical move, it would instead play right into the hands of the enemy.

"Right," Bryan said sharply. "Now you know and so we have to act. Captain Hill, you need to lead Cirdan and the fleet to London. Right now, the fastest way to get the elves there is by sea. In the mean time, we need your Operations officer to start monitoring the airwaves. This bloody mess didn't happen too long ago, a day at most I estimate. I'm actually surprised that we haven't got any emergency services people here yet."

"I was wondering that myself, hold on a second." Isaiah said to Bryan, a thought occurring to him. The Connecticut had reported to Norfolk that it was delayed in the Norwegian basin owing to engine failure. It was a considerably more reasonable explanation than explaining to his superiors that he had discovered an island of elves and was escorting their fleet to England in order to stop an evil dark lord from taking over the world. Considering the Connecticut was carrying nuclear torpedoes, this was the response least likely to cause the navy to send out a fleet of submarines to carry out highlights from the Hunt for Red October.

Isaiah didn't think he looked a bit like Sean Connery.

Lifting the radio attached to his belt to his lips, Isaiah radioed the Connecticut. "Hennessy, have you been monitoring civilian communication? What's going on?"

"I have Sir," Lt. Hennessy reported automatically from within the confines of the submarines' bridge. He had been ordered to maintain radio silence during their journey back to prevent Norfolk or any other satellite from locating them. However, while he hadn't been transmitting, he had been listening and the last few hours had been very odd indeed. Hennessy had wanted something more concrete before interrupting the Captain and their guests but the opportunity had not shown itself. "There's some kind of satellite disruption going on. Local media towers aren't transmitting clearly. I'm getting a lot of static. I think telephone lines might be down too."

"What about mobile phones?" Jason asked, not meaning to eavesdrop. "I mean cell phones."

Isaiah gave the Kiwi a look and repeated the question.

"Can't say for certain Captain," Hennessy answered. "At this time, I'm not even sure what's causing the satellite failure but it's widespread. People are getting intermittent access. Some of our global position instruments are also having trouble."

"Alright," Isaiah nodded. "Keep me appraised as soon as you find out what's going on out there. Maintain our radio silence. No one needs to know where we are just yet."

Looking up at the others after ending the call, he had to ask. "Is this him?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Bryan shrugged. "Fred, is Saeran doing this?"

"Yes," she nodded automatically. "He wishes your people to be divided, frightened. The longer your people are unaware of what is happening, the harder it becomes to rally your defences. It would not be difficult for him to shift the path of your orbiting devices, to let them drift into the darkness."

Bryan closed his eyes to focus. He had to use the rage he felt, the anger at Saeran for taking Tory away, used that hatred to give him focus, to help him drive the others the way they needed to be. "Captain Hill, Elrond, Cirdan, you should go now. You need to reach London and try to contact the authorities, tell them to clear a path between here and the city. Tell them someone's deployed Sarin gas or the Ebola virus if you have to, just get everybody out of his way. Tell them to come here and see what he's done if they don't believe you."

"That's a tall order," Isaiah pointed out, unable to think of even how he was going to approach this particular task. It didn't matter, he had to try. Until now, Isaiah hadn't voiced a secret fear that had been nagging at him since his departure from Valinor. Perhaps the unreality of the whole situation had convinced him the danger was real, not until he found himself at Sennen Cove, face to face with the destruction here.

He prayed to God that Lori hadn't missed her scheduled flight to the States from Heathrow.

XXXXXXXXXX

Eve screamed.

Her wail of agony travelled across the vaulted ceiling of the famous Exeter cathedral rivalling in tenor and ferocity the building's famous pipe organ. Clutching her stomach in pain, Eve grovelled on the floor, tears running down her cheeks as the white-hot pain seared through her insides. Through the haze of her excruciating agony, she could feel an even worse violation, the terrified state of her unborn baby's emotions. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't speak a word of any coherence except to offer fruitless protest against the radiating agony inside her womb.

"Please…." she begged, unaware that she had soiled herself. She knew she had vomited, she could smell the foul odour on her clothes and on the floor where she had regurgitated bile and saliva. "Please stop it! You're …you're…hurting….the….baby!" She said through her sobs.

"Nonsense," Saeran retorted smoothly, oblivious to her agony even though he was most interested in what was happening to her. Watching her closely as he squatted nearby, Saeran studied the swelling of Eve's stomach with clinical interest. He could feel the baby inside her womb, feel its terror and its pain. The little pup was struggling inside its mother's flesh unaware of anything except the agony it was experiencing. It couldn't even register what was happening to it as pain, merely distress. The buttons of Eve's jeans snapped open, the metal pieces flying in all directions. Her body's new shape bursting past the fabric.

"The pup will be just fine," he said looking up at the robed figure standing nearby, waiting patiently for his master's orders, as slow smile forming on his face. Though Uvath didn't answer, Saeran could feel his beast's pleasure. "However I do get impatient waiting for his arrival so we have to expedite things a little faster."

With a mere flick of his powers, Saeran cast his gaze on Eve once more, his eyes burning with the flames as it did when Frodo Baggins first slipped the One Ring onto his finger.

Eve began to shudder and threw her head back before shrieking again in agony. Her scream so piercing that even Saeran winced a little. However, he did not stop. Within her belly, beneath the layers of skin and inside the wet walls of her womb, Saeran could see the child, could envision its body growing. Arms and legs were lengthening, its skull forming, tissue and clumps of cells becoming organs and muscle. Eve's let out one final scream before her lungs gave out and she was rendered unconscious at last. Her limbs flopping uselessly against the floor, the woman knew nothing more.

"Strip her and clean her up." Saeran ordered when it was all said and done.

"Yes my lord," Uvath nodded and knelt down before the woman. It was just as well she was unconscious, the Nazgul thought as he began disrobing her. Undoubtedly she would struggle if she were not and he had no patience to deal with her hysterics. Uvath would not have cared if it were up to him. This she-elf in Edain skin was known to him and he had relished every tortured scream that led up to this moment. She was filthy with vomit and shit, he noted as he lifted her into his icy touch. Her dark hair plastered to her face in sweaty tangles.

"When she smells less like an animal, put her somewhere she can sleep and feed her when she awakes," Saeran ordered. "She will need her strength."

There was a pause. "Yes, my Lord."

"You disagree?" Saeran said standing up.

"That is not possible my lord," Uvath returned quickly as he hoisted a naked Eve into his arms. "I was merely…."

"Curious?" Saeran finished the sentence for him..

The Nazgul shifted uncomfortably, his discomfiture showing in the slight rustle of his dark robes. "Is it not expedient that we wait for the babe to be born in the proper course of time? Why do you hasten her quickening? We have much to do in the world of men, enemies to fight. What use is a child to us in the midst of this? It seems to be inconvenient."

"I will answer you because it is a fair question Uvath," Saeran said as he walked further down the aisle to the altar at the end of the carpet. "And because you are not one who questions often. Before he dies, I want the Isildur's heir to see the child that would have been his son, I wish him to know that it is I, his babe will call father."

There were other reasons of course, secret reasons that had to do with his own sense of self-preservation but for this moment, this would suffice. Saeran spared one more look at Eve as she was removed from his presence. She was naked in Uvath's arms and the result of her torture was clear for all to see. When they had set out, there was no sign of her impending motherhood. Now, he could see the turgid swell of her belly. Ensuring that her child was more than just a collection of cells would make her more manageable, Saeran decided.

Turning his back on his servant as Eve was removed from his presence, Saeran stared at the altar before him and regarded the God these Edain called upon so often to give them deliverance.

"I am in your house carpenter," Saeran smirked as he stared at the crucifix. "Do you think that when I reduce this world to ash that these fools will finally realise that is all you are, a bastard born of an adulterous woman with a penchant for story telling? I will leave your house unsullied carpenter," he remarked turning away towards altar. "I will leave it standing because when the end comes you can make your apologies to them personally."

XXXXXXXXXX

_Dad's gonna be so pissed. _

This thought ran through the mind of one Lieutenant Lorraine 'Lori' Hill as the Saab 39 Gripen Fighter she had been asked to pilot during her three week stay at the Royal Marines Base at Devon, spiralled out of control. Warnings lights were flashing across the cockpit console as the fighter jet spun in uncontrollably towards the ground. Her tolerance to extreme G-forces was good so Lori managed not to puke all over her flight suit while she struggled to regain control of her wounded bird.

Not an easy thing to do since most of the right wing was ripped off by a dragon. Yes boys and girls, Lori thought to herself as she ignored the queasiness in her stomach and kept her eyes fixed on the controls, _a fucking dragon._

Lori had been thrilled when she and a handful of other American pilots had been selected to test pilot a number of Gripen fighter jets that the RAF had purchased recently. The Swiss made plane had been touted as the next thing in fourth generation fighters and before USAF had its own spanking new planes delivered, they wanted their pilots to have some idea how the things handled. So Lori found herself attached to the RAF for a couple of weeks and was all set to go home the day before when a squadron of Tornadoes were taken out above the English coast.

At first, no one could believe the reports coming out of Cornwell. Some kind of flying creatures were burning down everything in their path. Someone actually used the word dragon. Insanity, that's what it was, insanity. Then they lost contact with Pendent, Land's End, Penzance, Hale and Camborne. Aerial surveillance, what they could get of it, indicated towering infernos of black smock and oddly enough, communication blackout. Phone lines were destroyed, cell phones were rendered inert. The first thought that had crossed their minds was a terrorist attack. In these uncertain times, it was a logical conclusion to make.

Then the refugees began pouring out of Cornwall, with fantastical stories of dragons and monsters. Stories that told of enormous spiders and dogs that were as large as bears, tearing and murdering, to say nothing about the stories about real live Dementors leading the charge. No one knew what to make of it except to claim that it was the effect of some kind of gas attack by terrorists that produced hallucinations, Harry Potter ones it seemed.

It was much simpler to believe that than the truth.

The army was dispatched, the Devonshire Dorset Light Infantry was sent to gather some accurate intelligence as to what was happening in Cornwell.

They hadn't been heard from since.

More planes were sent and in the spirit of trans-Atlantic cooperation, Lori and her fellow American pilots joined the fight. Not that it was much of a fight. The F3s and Gripen had left the Chivenor base at Devon uncertain of what they would face. By the time they took to the air, the panic and destruction had reached Exeter and the communication blackout was expanding. It was as if the world had been cut off from Cornwall. Satellites that were in place a day before were drifting aimlessly into space, having detached from their geo-synchronous by some unseen force. Governments were pointing fingers at each other and all the while, Cornwall was burning.

As they flew over the ground, Lori had shared the shock of her fellow flight jocks when she caught a visual of the terrain beneath them. Huge tracts of land were ablaze, buildings, houses, trees and fields of grass were charred into blackened ash. The smoke was so thick that it robbed them of visibility and though there was no indication of any ground zero, it was all too reminiscent of the September 11 attacks on New York City. Even though England was not her country, Lori felt the same outrage and wanted to find whoever was responsible.

Sharing a bond of kinship with her English brothers in the air, Lori became just as committed at finding out who was responsible for this destruction.

It wasn't long before they learned it wasn't a _who_ but rather a _what_.

There was at least five of them and when they appeared on the scopes, Lori thought she was looking at enemy bogeys. They were certainly moving fast enough to justify the error. A little under Mach One, their ability to manoeuvre was exceedingly fast. Lori hadn't seen that kind of capability since she had a chance to pilot a Harrier. When they finally got a visual, it was more all she could do to keep her jaw from dropping.

Their bogeys were dragons, real life honest to god dragons.

And what Lori had seen in the movies and books simply did not do the creatures justice. They hovered in mid air, the smallest one had a wing size comparable to a DC-10 and the largest, a 747. Their scales glistened from black to iridescent green, smooth, impossibly gracile muscles rippling under the sunlight. Lori thought they were almost beautiful. Malevolent red eyes glared at them before they opened their mouths and revealed impossibly large teeth.

Someone shouted the order to retreat but it was too late.

What happened next happened in blast of fire. Her Gripen was virtually bathed in it and she fired her engines to manoeuvred, felt something very big latch on to her plane. The weight forced the aircraft down and through the voice of panic she could hear through the radio, Lori realised that the dragons had broken formation and was attacking each plane one by one. She struggled to shake the thing off but its huge claws ripped off a wing like it was paper and somehow lost it grip in the process. It was determined however to have the plane and soon resumed its attack. She was saved when McRae in an F3 unleashed a hail of bullets at the beast, distracting it long enough for Lori to make her escape.

Such as it was.

She couldn't regain control of the craft and it was still spinning. The ground was becoming perilously close but ever the optimist, the dragons were mostly concentrating on the planes overhead and had forgotten about her for the moment. She was fast approaching minimum safe distance for ejection and knew that she had to make the decision fast. A delayed ejection decision could cost Lori her life and she wasn't quite ready to check out just yet. She could hear the other pilots through her radio and knew that they were having problems of their own.

Looking up, she couldn't see anything because the air was so filled with smoke. However, through the turbulence, Lori hear their terror and the awful bellowing of the dragon's roar just before it blasted them with a wall of fire. Closing her eyes, she activated the ejection mechanism.

She shot out of the plane like a bullet in a gun, the canopy sliding away and tumbling from the Gripen as Lori was launched through the sky, strapped to the ejection seat. Bracing herself for the wild ride down, she closed her eyes and waited for the familiar bloom of a parachute to appear above her head. A few seconds later, Lori felt her sharp descent slow and as she opened her eyes, saw that the parachute was there above her.

She'd never ejected before and had something of a phobia that the parachute wouldn't open and she'd be one of those unfortunate persons who had their parachute silk stolen by that fuck in Catch-22, Minderbender. Fortunately, Lori was spared that much at least. As she descended into the township of Exeter, Lori studied the terrain and knew that if the people were right about the dragons, then they were right about all the other things they had seen too. The pilot wasn't prepared to travel down that road yet but nevertheless double-checked that she was carrying her service pistol.

Beneath her, a fireball surged into the air when her Gripen hit the ground via the roof of a small office building and ignited the three-storey structure with an explosion that blew out all the windows and set it ablaze. Glass and mortar flew about in all direction, each fragment ignited by jet fuel and other accelerants. Lori hoped the building was empty when it hit but had a feeling that it wasn't. She forced away the guilt for the moment because her survival depended on her having a clear head. That blast might have attracted the attention of the beast that caused it and Lori kept searching the sky for any signs that it might have seen her descent. The damn parachute was a dead giveaway.

The ejector seat deposited her in someone's rather unkempt backyard. The house was still standing which was a good sign. Too many she had seen on the way down were burned out wrecks, The seat landed a few meters from the back door and Lori counted herself lucky she didn't end up on the roof and make an unholy mess of it. Besides, those shingles didn't look very strong. Quickly freeing herself from the seat, she glanced up and saw the aerial battle taking place.

Another plane was streaking towards the ground, trailing black smoke. She saw no other parachutes in the air and that frightened her almost as much as the dragons.

Was she the only one who made it to the ground?

God, she hoped not.

XXXXXXXXXX

For Morgul, moments like this were far and few.

Even since the destruction of the One Ring and their subsequent resurrection in Arda by their master, Morgul had not experienced true joy as he had when Mordor still stood. The modern world was a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, especially when he had seen how populous the Edain had become. Like an infection, they covered every corner of the globe and their attempt to rule was next to pitiful. The entire race had been bred into weakness with not one amongst them worthy enough to rule.

Soon, the race of man would learn what true power was. Their master had return to them and the promises of a new age, beckoned with all the trappings of destruction in abeyance. As the Lord of the Nazgul moved across the debris covered street of Exeter, the latest city to fall under the onslaught of Sauron's new army lay before him in ruins. What life there was left in the city was being hunted down by the wargs and the great spiders. The sound of screaming pierced the air at regular intervals as another enclave of cowering humans were located.

The dragons had rained fire upon the city, setting most of it a blaze. What the flame did not kill, the spiders and the wargs did so with ruthless efficiency, picking up the scent of blood and fear and following it back to its source. The spiders were gorging themselves, having not fed so richly in too long. The beasts had claimed the local museum for their own and created hatcheries within its walls. Neither Sauron nor Morgul saw any difficulty with this as there would be plenty of food to furnish the young while they formed, thanks to the good folk of Exeter.

The Edain army had arrived early this morning and attempted to halt their progress. Morgul had led his brothers against the arrayed forces. As none among them knew what they were facing, Morgul was able to end them quickly enough with a blast of Black Breath. When they had been resurrected into this new world, Morgoth had forbade the return of their full powers but now that their master was himself strengthened, he had returned to them to their former glory. The soldiers had fallen where they stood, enveloped by a sleep so dark they could not escape.

And as they lay there, unknowing, Morgul gave them to the spiders.

"Is he done with the female?" Morgul inquired as they past Guildhall towards the city centre.

"I believe so," Adunaphel remarked, scanning the abandoned shop fronts and detected movement through the glass. Casting a look at the warg that followed behind him as if it were a pet, the wraith gestured in the direction of the shop front and said promptly. "Go."

The beast launched itself forward on powerful legs, running across the sidewalk before entering the opened doors of the establishment. Its bulk belied its stealth and following the sound of breaking glass and furniture being upended, a terrified scream was cut short by its powerful roar.

"Don't let the wargs eat them all," Morgul advised. "The trolls will need to be fed also. Gather any other humans that are still alive and keep them in Guildhall. The trolls can feed when the sun goes down. Tell them to eat their fill because we will be moving at midnight. He wants to be in London by the morning."

"Shall we send the dragons ahead?" Khamul inquired.

"Yes, he wants London in flames by the time we arrived there," Morgul answered quickly. "You will go with Mumakan and Akhorahil. Carry out the same instructions, have the dragons burn down all telephone lines and destroy anything that resemble a transmitting tower. Not knowing what is happening or being able to talk to each other will heighten their state of panic. Khamul, you will lead the dragons against their jets. Mumakan and Akhorahil will breathe the Black Breath upon the city. Give them a taste of what is to come when we arrive there with our lord."

"We will proceed now," Mumakan nodded behind the dark hood of his cloak. "What of you?"

"The woman needs rest," Morgul said with an unmistakable hint of disgust in his voice. "While the whelp festers inside her like an open sore, she must be handled delicately. As you would have heard from her bleating, our Lord Sauron has hastened her quickening, a process that taxes her body greatly. He cannot try again until she has regained sufficient strength or else he risks harming her and the babe."

Adunaphel shook his head in confusion. "I do not understand his fascination for this female. She is fair and does bear some passing resemblance to Luthien but she ruts with the incarnation of Isildur's heir! She would taint him with her poisonous elven blood."

"SILENCE!" Morgul roared, a frightening sound that made the wargs following them in attendance shrink back in fear, their ears flattening as their fur rose. "You do not question the Master! Do you not feel what he feels? The elves are coming!"

"The elves?" Adunaphel's eyes flashed like red embers.

"Yes," Morgul nodded. "Can you not sense their presence? Search yourself, open your mind to his power and you will feel them..."

Adunaphel did not speak but did as he was instructed, opening his thoughts, connecting himself to their masters' formidable essence. Like a thirsty man standing on the edge of a great lake, the sheer power at Sauron's disposal was overwhelming and threatened to drown him in its great depths if he leaned too far in. In the murky water, he saw what Morgul saw…the great ships of the Teleri sailing across the ocean with the Peredhil and the Lord of the Falathrim leading the charge.

"How soon?" Adunaphel started to say.

"They are already here," Morgul said abruptly, impatient by Adunaphel's inability to see but then again he had been the last to fall completely into shadow and was always to afraid to test the limits of his connection to their lord. While Sauron saw nothing worrisome in this, Morgul found it annoying.

There should be no secrets among the Nazgul.

"Should we not deal with them?" The lesser Nazgul asked not merely of Morgul but of all his brothers assembled. "They will carry with them elven blessed weapons, weapons that can harm us."

"If our lord is not afraid, then neither should we be," Khamul spoke with derision.

"We will be waiting for the Eldar when they arrive in London," Morgul said smugly. "The Teleri do not have enough ships for all the elves of Valinor to make the journey here and furthermore, they will be perceived as much of a threat to the Edain of this world as we are. They will find no allies on these shores. If nothing else, the Edain are hostile and divisive, they will view the elves with hostility and while they are trying to discern whether Elrond and his ilk ought to be trusted, our Uruks will be awaiting us at Bara-dur."

However, despite his bold words, Morgul did not reveal to his brother that the arrival of the Eldar _was_ of concern to Sauron, whether or not the dark lord wished to admit it. The others like Khamul and Mumakan could sense it but Adunaphel was too fearful to probe the dark recesses of Sauron's thoughts. What other reason could there be for hastening the birth of the child?

If nothing else, Sauron knew how to survive, even if it was in the unlikeliest of places.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was the screams that woke Eve up from her black sleep.

It cut through her ears so abruptly, that she sat up as if awaking from a nightmare, only to realise that it was the other way round, she was waking up _to_ the nightmare. She looked around the room and did not recognise where she was but noticed that it was somewhat Spartan in its furnishings. A wooden cross hung on the wall and the few books on the shelves were somewhat theological in its nature. So intent was Eve in studying her surroundings for that first few minutes, that she didn't notice that she was naked.

But that wasn't even the worst of it.

Eve looked down and saw her stomach, saw her swollen stomach where only yesterday it had been flat without any outward signs of pregnancy. As she gaped at herself, her hand drifted to the rise of her belly and felt the involuntary kick of the child within. Her fingers shrank back as if scalded, the enormity of what had been done settling over Eve like thick smoke. She couldn't breathe and had to fight the urge to scream.

What had he done to her? What had he done to her baby?

Almost as if he knew she was awake, the door to the room suddenly creaked open and David Saeran stepped inside, pausing at the doorway to take a long appreciative look at her.

"My dear you are positively glowing," he smirked, his expression showing no endearment in that remark only mocking derision.

"What have you done to my baby, you bastard!" Eve hissed angrily and yet she hugged her arms around her rounded belly, protecting the child inside of her even though she did not know if it was still her child or some abomination that Saeran had created inside of her using her child's body.

Saeran completed his entry into the room, shutting the door behind him. In his hand, he carried a glossy paper bag, like something one would get after shopping at a boutique. "I brought you something to wear," he said indifferently. "As entertaining as it might be to have you continue our journey with nothing on, this damn English weather makes that rather impossible. After all, you have the baby to think about."

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!" She shrieked with rage, her fists shaking.

Saeran smiled, unperturbed by her outburst. "Nothing that will harm your infant permanently I assure you," he said coolly. "I accelerated his growth a little. I thought I'd take these new powers for a spin and see what developed. I have to say it was quite informative."

"Informative!" She sputtered in fury, her memory returning to her in its fullness. She remembered screaming in pain, begging for him to end the agony, pleading for her baby's life. "If you've hurt my baby…"

"You'll do what?" Saeran asked pointedly.

Eve fell silent, her eyes burning with hatred because she had never felt more helpless than at this moment. "Nothing," she whispered, blinking tears of frustration that bordered on total despair. "I'll do nothing."

"A sensible decision," Saeran lowered himself unto the edge of the bed next to her, dropping the bag on the floor at his feet. Eve wanted to shrink away from him, she wanted neither his touch nor his gifts. "If you continue to be sensible Eve, your time with me will not be unpleasant. I do not wish your affection but you can be engaging when you wish to be and there are moments when I require being engaged."

"And in return?" Eve asked softly, refusing to believe that she would be forced to honour such an agreement because she still burned with the hope that Aaron and Bryan would deliver her this nightmare.

"In return, I'll let you keep your son. If all goes to plan and I'm certain it will, I'll have no real need of him except to ensure that you behave. Who knows, he might even prove to be as amusing to me as I am certain you'll be."

"You won't hurt him?" She lifted glistening blue eyes to him.

Giving in to him like this was hard. It felt as if a little part of her had died just saying the words. Until now, she hadn't realised what a sacrifice it would be to ensure this child inside of her remained safe and still, she had no assurances that he wouldn't harm the baby, even if she gave him what he wanted.

If he chose to renege, there was nothing Eve could do to prevent it.

"I won't hurt him unless you give me reason to," Saeran answered, sensing her indecision and the awareness of the situation she was in.

_Good_, he thought with triumph. _The first capitulation was always the hardest. The rest will be much easier. _

XXXXXXXXXX

As the flotilla of elven began their journey down the Cornish coast, those who had opted to remain behind set out to find themselves an alternate means of transport to London. Although Bryan wanted to send Frank and the kids out of harm's way, his brother would not hear of it and was determined to stand by them in this fight. Frank did however, agree to entrust Pip and Sam into Jason's care. The former camera man had friends in the north of England who could watch over the two boys while the adults in their party headed towards London.

"I don't want to go," Sam grumbled as he stood by the four wheel drive they had found abandoned in the outskirts of the Cove.

"Sam you have to," Frank said to his child as Jason packed up the vehicle with supplies. "I need you to look after Pip."

He hated sending the boys away but there was bloody work ahead and neither he nor Miranda could focus if they had were worrying about their children. At least up north, Sam and Pip be out of the line of fire while the fate of the world was being decided. Frank only hoped that they could succeed in stopping Saeran or else nowhere Sam and Pip were hidden would be safe.

Sam glanced at his brother who was being hugged hard by their mother and knew that despite his want to stay, he could not. He had to take care of Sam. "What about Fred?" He asked instead, knowing the little girl was not making the journey with them.

"I have to remain Sam," she came forward and hugged him. "I have to show them the way."

Frank exchanged an anxious glance with Miranda who had not been happy about this decision. However, it was clear that there was more to Frederica Bailey than they knew. Someone else was inhabiting her body at present, someone whose help they needed desperately to fight Saeran.

"But we've always done things together…" Sam protested weakly, knowing she, like his father was right.

"And we will again Sam," she put her face on his cheek. "But this path I must walk alone and you must keep your brother safe. We will see each other again, I promise."

Sam offered a small smile that hid his disappointment but he knew the little girl before him wasn't all Fred and every since he had met her, nothing she told him was untrue. Sam didn't think this time was any different.

"Alright," he agreed at last, as if he had any choice in the matter. "I'll go."

"That's my boy," Frank smiled at his son and hoped as much as Sam that Fred's promise would be the truth.

XXXXXXXXXX

"You right to do this?" Eric asked Jason as his loyal camera man loaded up the back of the vehicle with supplies of fuel, food and Bryan's contribution to the stores, a handgun just in case of trouble.

"Yeah," Jason nodded. Although he wanted to stay and fight with his friends, he knew the importance of the task asked of him. Miranda trusted him with the most precious things in her life and he could not disappoint her. Whether or not it was the kinship shared by their past incarnations or the fact that the woman had earned his respect and admiration, Jason knew he would lay down his life to ensure that Sam and Pip were safe. "I'm right. You're going to keep out of trouble?" He asked the crazy Australian who had made his life one roller coaster ride after another since their first meeting.

"Are you kidding?" Eric pretended to laugh with false bravado. "I'm keen to go mate. Evil dark lord, dragon and nuclear annihilation, if I don't get a Pulitzer out of this, I'll be able to shag all the birds I want."

"That's the way mate," Jason rolled his eyes and laughed, "always thinking with your dick."

"Has it ever led me wrong?" Eric returned smugly.

"I'm not even going to answer that," Jason shook his head and said with a sobering expression. "You take care of yourself. If London's still standing after this is all said and done, I'll shout you a beer at the Old Bell."

"You're on," Eric grinned and watched him climb into the driver's seat, praying it wasn't the last time he'd see his best friend again.

XXXXXXXXXX

Of the group had returned from Valinor, only Aaron, Bryan, Miranda, Frank, Eric and Legolas remained in the ruined town of Sennen Cove. Ariel had gone with the elven fleet to London, a happenstance not unnoticed by anyone present and judging by Legolas' mood, Aaron suspected that the gulf separating husband and wife was not merely distance. Something had taken place during the journey to Arda that Legolas was being exceedingly closed mouth about. As they prepared to leave Cornwall for London with Aaron and Legolas walking through the ruined town in the hopes of finding another vehicle to make the trip, Legolas' silence forced Aaron to speak up.

"What the hell has happened between you and Ariel?" Aaron finally asked.

Legolas turned sharply to his friend. "That is none of your concern." He said stiffly.

"The hell it isn't," the psychiatrist would not be deterred. This wasn't just one of his patients or a consult, this was his friend and Aaron was determined to hear what was distracting him so. "You're barely here and considering what we have to do and whom we have to face, you not being focussed is going to get you killed."

"Do not lecture me when you are similarly plagued by Eve's capture by Sauron," Legolas bit back.

Aaron swallowed his anger at that rather underhanded comment because he could not deny how he had been acting. He had forced himself not to think of anything except getting Eve back and refused to entertain the notions of what Saeran could be doing to her. Aaron knew the folly in letting his imagination assume the worst; it would make him capable of being of any real use to her. Bryan was right, while Eve was still alive there was a chance to save her and if Bryan could put the battle ahead of his own grief, Aaron could do no less.

And the same applied to Legolas.

"I am plagued by her capture," Aaron retorted, his jaw tensing with anger as he spoke, anger which he quashed because it confirmed his suspicion that whatever had happened between the elf and his lady, it was no lover's quibble but something serious. Elves mated for life and divorce was unheard of. For a break of this magnitude, Aaron could well understand Legolas' despair. "However, I can't let that stop me from thinking straight. If I didn't get myself under control, I am no good to her and she needs me to be strong. If Bryan can deal with his grief then I think you and I can manage a little better."

The mention of Tory's fate quelled Legolas' anger somewhat and the elf let out a deep and weary sigh. "Ariel no longer wishes to be my wife."

"Why?" Aaron exclaimed. "Is that even possible for you guys?"

"We will remain mated for all time and bound to one another but as you have often claimed, it requires more than love to make a union between two people last." Legolas said unable to meet Aaron's gaze because confronting his feelings only deepened his shame.

"So what's the problem?" The human asked of the elf. "You two were together for a hundred thousand years, why now?"

"We have been together for a long time that is true," Legolas admitted sadly, "but she was not the first love of my life."

"Yeah I remember, Melia right?" Aaron asked as they saw a station wagon parked haphazardly against the kerb. The shattered glass and the deep grooves along the side panelling indicated the violence that had caused it to come to such an abrupt stop.

"Melia," Legolas said quietly, remembering the beautiful woman who had been his wife for half a century. How he had loved her and how he had mourned her every day since her passing. A part of him had never really let go of Melia, even when he was convinced that she was reborn in Ariel's body. At the core of him, Legolas knew he was still slave to the image of that maid from the Sunlands in her faded blue dress.

"And?" Aaron urged as he approached the car cautiously and felt his stomach hollow at the scent of diesel and blood. He needed Legolas to talk, so he wouldn't be overwhelmed by yet another image of death.

"And Ariel thinks that I do not see her for who she is, just the memory of who she was to me in another life." The elf admitted after a lengthy pause.

Looking through the shattered window, he could see blood and lots of it. If there was a body in the vehicle, it was no longer there but the torn seats and the claw marks against the upholstery gave Aaron ample evidence of what had taken place.

"So you told her she was wrong and she didn't believe you?" Aaron said leaning through the window and pulling the lever that popped the hood. He winced as he did so, not wanting to look to closely at the blood just yet.

Legolas turned away, "I could not tell her that," he said unable to face Aaron as he spoke, "because I do not believe she is wrong."


	11. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

**London**

_A livid sky on London_

_And like the iron steeds that rear_

_A shock of engines halted_

_And I knew the end was near:_

_And something said that far away, over the hills and far away_

_There came a crawling thunder and the end of all things here._

_For London Bridge is broken down, broken down, broken down,_

_As digging lets the daylight on the sunken streets of yore,_

_The lightning looked on London town, the broken bridge of London town._

_The ending of a broken road where men shall go no more._

Excerpt from 'The Old Song' by GK Chesterton

XXXXXXXXX

The bridge that connected London to Southwark had existed in one fashion or another for more than two thousand years. It had begun its life, as a symbol of Roman conquest, for no other empire was known more for the roads and bridges built during its occupation. The exact date of its birth was claimed to be in 46 AD since passage was needed across the Thames and the deepwater access to the sea made it ideal for the purpose. It was a construct of timber and nails that would stand in its place for a thousand years, before being burnt down by King Ethelred the Unready to protect London from the Danes.

By the time Peter de Colechurch had began construction of London Bridge in 1136, it had been rebuilt twice since its destruction by the unfortunately named Ethelred. In 1209, the bridge was rebuilt with stone instead of wood and stood for the next 600 years, although its history was laced with several deadly fires that caused thousands of deaths. In the 1800's, city planners on the cusp of the industrial revolution opted to rebuild the bridge and this time a more modern thoroughfare was created to meet the needs of a booming Victorian city. In 1968, the bridge had been disassembled and taken across the Atlantic and a newer version stood in its stead.

By the end of this day, the city planners would need to consider its next guise.

XXXXXXXXX

If there had been anyone to catalogue the entomology of the creatures known as the Watchers, they would have learned much to their surprise that these water dwelling creations of Melkor were amphibious, not completely aquatic as previously believed. Water gave the large, awkwardly shaped beasts the fluidity of movement and speed needed to snare its prey. However, watchers were by no means, trapped to it or helpless in a terrestrial environment.

Many of them still remained in Arda, hidden in secret places that would give the race of men much anxiety if it were known. Most remained in the depths of the world, in deep caves or on the ocean floor were the eating was good and anonymous. Many longed for the flesh of man but to do so would be to expose themselves and the race if nothing else was tenacious when under the threat from a predator. Others remained asleep for that too, was a characteristic of the breed that largely unknown.

Whatever their course through the ages all that had changed with the call to arms by the former lieutenant of their creator who reeked with his master's power and provided them with a reason to awake. From the depths they began emerging, the call to chaos bringing them from the bottom of the sea, from watery caves beneath riverbeds and lochs.

They were ordered to gather at the mouth of the river known as the 'Dark One', the location selected by their new lord for its irony. In language of the ancient Celts, the translation of Dark One was the _Tame_ or in modern speech, the Thames.

On the morning that Sauron, Lord of Mordor, now David Saeran arrived in London, the residents of that city would have awakened to a low rumble, not unlike the sound of a tuba reaching crescendo. Another soon followed the first blast of this unseen instrument and although the sounds produced did not mesh together like any composition of music, there was a certain beauty in the unity of the unusual noise.

It was perhaps the first time since their creation that the Watchers had assembled like this and in the meeting; the ancient beasts began to sing the songs of their youth, a sound that resembled the earth shuddering. Like other leviathans at play, the dark beast swam around the pylons of London Bridge, forgetting for a moment the purpose of their summons to Angel Isle. It was a brief respite.

The Tower Bridge, owing to its bascule design, did not notice the arrival of the Watchers owing to the elevation of its double leaf span to allow the passage of ships beneath it. The creatures swam easily up the Thames and found a more solid object around which they could vent eons of aggression.

XXXXXXXXX

She hated fish.

She hated it with a bloody passion.

Day in and day out, that's all she could smell. Salmon, trout, hake, bream and cod. Megan swore than no amount of showering could remove the stench. It wasn't as if she didn't like fish to start of with but working every day at Billingsgate Fish Market had made her wholly sick of anything that lived under the sea. Trapped in her little Honda with the usual gridlock traffic on London Bridge, Megan looked across the river to the building where the markets were situated with a growing amount of disdain. She knew this level of indifference required her to start thinking about a new job but the money was good and the hours were convenient.

The only trouble was the fish.

London, like the rest of England was in a state of panic.

Although the authorities were still claiming fervently that everything was alright and that the strange reports about the strife in Cornwall, Dorset, Devon, parts of Somerset, Hampshire and Surrey were just rumour, the public was finding it harder and harder to believe it. The communication black out that prevented any sort of television; radio or even Internet connection to these counties did not cease in the days that followed the first incident in Cornwell. The authorities were claiming a terrorist attack, that some sort of mass hallucinogen had been deployed over those areas of England.

Refugees pouring out of those areas arrived with implausible stories of dragons and giant spiders were immediately ordered to bed with advice to drink milk to break down the chemical in their systems, by those who received them. The government, unable to reduce public hysteria by any other means had concocted the story of a mass hallucinogenic gas and were had produced measures to ensure the effects wore off in good time. In the meantime the communication silence continued and the roads to southwest were blockaded by men with guns and a great deal of conviction.

Thus the roads were jammed with people who had heard nothing from relatives and friends in those counties, as they travelled to the scene of the blockade and waited on the other side of the barriers for the appearance of loved ones. The media continued to scream cover-up as the press were similarly barred from crossing the blockade to report the news from those affected areas. There were disturbing reports of some journalists that had been shot and across the planet, the world watched with held breath at what was taking place in Wessex.

Setting down the bottle of water she had just taken a sip from onto the dashboard, Megan looked ahead and saw the shimmer of heated air, thanks to the exhaust pipe of the mini in front of her. Once again London Bridge was filled with people either traveling to the barricade or coming from it. If she were smart, it would be a motorcycle she was driving not a car whose purpose in life was to make her pay ludicrous amounts of money in petrol and not be able to weave through traffic effortless like God intended.

Suddenly she noted the water within the bottle resting on the dash shimmer from the rumble of the car. Even though the engine was idling, Megan hadn't thought the drone from the engine was all that noticeable. Just to be safe, she reached for the bottle and tightened the cap to ensure that nothing escaped if it should vibrate off the dashboard. That's the last thing she needed this morning on top of everything else.

She hadn't given the whole thing a second thought when suddenly the sound like a thousand great horns boomed through the air with such force; she dropped the bottle on her lap and let out a cry that was drowned in the blare of the noise. It did not stop and seem to increase until her windscreen shattered and as she raised her hand to shield her eyes, saw other cars experiencing the same troubles. Thanking her brother for convincing her to pay for the shatterproof glass. The windscreen had managed to hold its shape despite shattering. Breaks like the webbing of a spider spread across the glass.

Reaching for the door handle, she staggered out of the car and saw other cars experiencing the same phenomena. Outside, the sound seemed louder and Megan covered her ears trying to block out the powerful blare. People were clambering out their vehicles, trying to escape the explosion of sound and glass. Some were shouting but their cries could not be heard over the noise. It seemed to be all around them and in a confused state; she wondered what she was causing it.

Something slammed hard against the wall and though Megan couldn't see it, she certainly felt it. Like a ship ramming into the concrete. The vibration travelled past the soles of her feet into her bones. The impact was hard enough to make her stumble and she saw her char actually shudder.

"DID YOU FEEL THAT?" She shouted to a man near her. He was bleeding over the left eye while trying to shake glass off his clothes.

He saw her mouth move and try to answer when the impact was felt again, this time stronger and she was not alone in feeling it. Others had begun to look around them, trying to discern from when this shudder had come. Was the bridge going to collapse? Megan thought frantically for a moment, a flurry of panicked thoughts racing through her mind as she tried to decide how far it was to the other end. The other motorists who were on the bridge with her had similar thoughts and while some clung to the disbelief that this would turn out well, others did not.

Reaching through the open door of her car, Megan grabbed her handbag and decided that she wasn't' staying. Slinging the leather strap around the shoulder, her footing was awkward because of the continued shuddering of the bridgework. Convinced now that the terrorists had bombed the bridge like they had to the Tube not long ago, she had come to the decision that the safest place was on solid ground. Joining the exodus of motorists, she began running.

Suddenly the sound stopped.

The stillness that followed was even more chilling than the trembling bridge. People paused and looked at each other, with only a small rise of chattering breaking the quiet as questions were asked as to what was happening. Megan thought it was like the calm before a storm and began to move once again, absolute in her certainty that the silence was not a good sign. She had not made more than a few steps when a scream tore through the air.

It was a woman with flailing arms, shrieking pure unadulterated terror as she was hoisted into the air by what could only be described as tentacle belonging to some family of octopi. The size of it was beyond any she had seen before, almost a foot in width, coiling around its victim with almost effortless strength. Her shriek followed her across the air as she was borne away to the side of the bridge.

Her cry of terror was but the first.

Soon, there were other screams not just women but men, children and following that hitch pitched scream of fear, there followed an even more terrifying sound; the shriek of agony that followed the stomach turning crunch of flesh and bone. Near paralyzed with terror, Megan remained rooted to the spot, watching people being picked off like flies by tentacles belong to creatures that were crawling up the side of the bridge.

A man had dove into his car but could not escape, the tentacle wrapped around the vehicle and lifted him up in the air. She saw him pounding against the glass, his eyes wide with horror before disappearing beyond the railing. Something inside her snapped at that moment and she began running. The screams across the bridge was almost deafening now as multiple tentacles sprouted like the heads of a hydra, spiriting away victims over the railing and into the water.

She was sobbing in fear, terrified that she would not make it to the end. The pandemonium across the bridge was almost complete in its virulence. People were screaming, running, trying to hide in cars. Some had returned to their vehicles, trying to drive off the bridge, crossing the barrier between driveway and pedestrian walk, hoping to clear the gridlock. Their success in reaching it only brought them closer to the edge of the bridge, where whatever menace was attacking them, had a better view of its prey. Megan gasped as she saw whole cars being lifted off the side railings, splashing into the drink a moment later.

A chance glimpse at the direction of the Tower Bridge made Megan freeze in her tracks. For the first time, she was afforded a view of what was attacking them, as it appeared the Tower was under the same assault. Bodies as black as ebony, with shapes that did not at appear like octopus, the creatures were certainly much, much larger that even the biggest that species had been able to produce. She saw tentacles that moved like whips, dragging screaming victims off that bridge the way they were doing t o this one. She saw them disappearing into something wide and gapping like a mouth.

As she continued her desperate flight for freedom, she as man grasping at the bars of the railing, desperate to remain on the bridge as the tentacle around his waist coiled around him, tightening its grip and continuing to tug and tug at him. Megan wanted to stop but she knew she would never be able to free him and may end up in the same perilous state. As their eyes met, she saw his anguish at the dying to come and knowing that she could not help him. She saw his sobs of horror and fear end with a final powerful yank by the beast.

His fingers slackened around the railing.

He did not have time to scream and for that she was grateful because his eyes would follow her to the grave, however, soon that moment might soon come upon her. She looked away from him and saw the tentacles waving about in the air, waving his lower body like a prize, sending blood and viscera everywhere. Her own screams were preempted by the complete loss of control of her stomach.

Bent over, Megan vomited all over the road. However, she barely had time to wipe her mouth when she was forced into moving, struck cold by the thought if she did not move she would end up the same way. Ignoring everything, ignoring her fear, the crowds trying to make the same desperate bid for freedom, the cars in her way, the grisly remains of those who like the man who had tried to resist and been torn apart, Megan kept her eye on the other side of the bridge.

So fixed was her focus, so determined was she to escape the reach of the monsters that were slaughtering people around her so indiscriminately, she did not hear the beating of great wings overhead. Only when she felt the shadow falling upon her did she lift her blue eye so the sky and thought for an absurd moment, she was staring at the great wings of an angel. However, this illusion was quickly shattered when another loud bellow filled the air that made her think of the T-Rex in that Spielberg film.

The blast of fire that swept over Megan Stanley, incinerating her where she stood, came so swiftly that she neither had time to scream nor register the pain of flesh being seared off her bones. The fire rolled across her, continuing forward like a juggernaut, making the tar beneath to bubble and cooking alive anyone who had taken refuge within their vehicles. The tentacled beasts moved further down the Thames, towards Southwark Bridge, seeking more ripe fields to plunder.

As their water bound brothers continued onward, the dragons, like Ethelred the Unready, set London Bridge a blaze yet again.

XXXXXXXXX

"Come on," Lori cursed as she wiped the sweat from her brow. "How hard can this fucking be?"

She wanted to kick and scream, leaving the wretched thing alone but she couldn't. She simply couldn't. Lieutenant Lori Hill had to try again or else she was going to die here.

Taking a deep breath, she tried again, feeling more and more frustrated at her lack of success. She knew what she was doing, or rather had a rough idea of what she wanted to do but the execution needed finesse and after one day in Exeter, she was all out of it. Electronics had never been a problem for her in the past however, there was a vast difference understanding the avionics of a jet plane and trying to start a car without the benefit of keys.

Four wires, she told herself. All she had to do was get these four wires in the ignition chamber to connect properly and she could get the hell out of here.

It had been almost a full day since she had ejected from her plane over the skies of the Exeter. That was nearly 24 hours were no rescue had come and she had seen no signs of the other pilots who had taken off with her. Landing in a field outside of town, the wise course would have been to stay there in retrospect, however, she had continued towards it in the belief that she needed to contact her base, tell her what had ambushed them. For the sake of the men and women who had died and the ones who would without any accurate intelligence, she had no choice.

Of course, upon arriving at Exeter, Lori had found herself faced with a town that looked like the aftermath of a war zone. Lori, who had spent some time in Afghanistan, discovered this once quaint English town had been gutted the way that country had been ravaged during the war. She saw bodies, torn apart lying in the streets; some didn't even escape their cars. There was fire burning throughout half the buildings in town and nothing done to stop it.

It appalled her to no end that the stench of flesh burning was something she had become accustomed to in the last 24 hours.

Making the attempt to manipulate the collection of wires into place, Lori wiped her brow again in the front seat of the hatchback she had found relatively intact, parked in the garage she had taken refuge in. That night, she had remained huddled in its back seat, keeping still and praying that whatever she had spied roaming the streets of Exeter had not found her. Occasionally, she would hear a scream that chilled her blood to the bone and she knew she would never again get be able to see a spider without wanting to squash the living fuck out of it.

The entire town was like a scene from some B grade horror movie starring Peter Cushing or Wings Hauser. It wasn't the scenes of destruction and corpses that unnerved her so, it was the big black bodies of large spiders scurrying along the walls of buildings, spinning webs between lamp posts, capturing birds and people who wandered unwittingly into it. She saw what she thought were dogs, looking like bears, patrolling the town with malevolent yellow eyes.

And then there were the guys in the dark cloaks.

Dementors, that's what she called them, _Dementors_.

It was the closest she could come describing the tall dark men in their flowing black cloaks, whose faces were hidden beneath hoods and whose eyes looked glowing embers of fire. When she saw them, he breath had caught and perhaps it was the chill of the English weather but Lori felt a shiver run down her back and wrap itself around her spine in tendrils of cold. For seconds after they had gone, she could feel only the fear lingering inside her bones, like an unpleasant after taste she could not get out of her mouth.

A good hour had passed before she dared to move again and even then the sense of dread they had left behind in their wake was hard to dispel. She spent the rest of the night, clutching her service revolver to her chest, listening to every sound. From the moment the sun had set, she saw them moving through Exeter, a menagerie of nightmarish creatures, she still had trouble believing was real. Yet she knew they were, the bodies and the blood gave her no illusions about what she was seeing.

The strange procession of creatures moved down the street, led by the 'Dementors' before they mounted what looked like a dragon only smaller and less formidable. The winged creatures allowed themselves to be mounted like horses before carrying its riders aloft. Lori was trapped between her fear and her fascination at what these things were. Forgetting their destructive might, seeing the dragons take flight across the sky was one of the most incredible scenes she had ever seen. Majestic, powerful, it was difficult to deny that they were in their own way beautiful.

The other thing that stood out in her memory during her viewing of this midnight exodus was the man.

She didn't recognize him but the fact that he was their leader was undeniable.

The man and his companion, a human female with just enough swell to her belly to indicate pregnancy emerged from the town cathedral before joining the creatures on the street. Climbing on the backs of the winged animals that also carried the 'Dementors', both were borne away into the night sky, amidst the flapping of great wings. While the man seemed totally confident and master of all before him, the mask of fear on the woman's face struck Lori. However she had come to be in this situation, it was not by choice. If Lori weren't utterly certain that it would get her killed and avail the woman nothing, she would have tried to help her.

As it was, once both riders were on the backs of the winged beasts, the creatures gained altitude with the grace of a bird, belying its cruel serpentine visage. She watched them ascend, along with the 'Dementors' and as if some silent order had been issued, the rest of the bestiary began their journey out of Exeter. As they departed down the road, Lori was able to see for the first time, the complete menagerie of creatures that had laid waste to this small English town.

Watching them made her skin crawl and renewed her determination to get to authorities and warn them what was coming their way. In the air, the dragons flew like flocks of birds, the power of their great wings, making the trees rustle as they passed. On the ground, there were the wolves or bears, she couldn't tell what they were exactly; only that they were bigger than the largest tiger she had ever seen and muscles rippled powerfully under glossy russet pelts. The spiders were larger than dogs and they were so many that no matter how much Lori told herself that she was an air force pilot who had seen worse things, she still came down with a severe case of the heebie-jeebies at the sight of the things.

Marching along with the wolf/bears and the spiders, were what she could only call giants. Of course these weren't anything like the Robbie Coltrane version. These ones didn't look remotely human. They were big and hairless, their features seemed melted and though biped, they were hunched forward, carrying huge clubs and maces. There were so many that Lori knew the two magazines of .357 caliber shells for her Smith-Wesson semi-automatic was just not going to keep her alive for very long if they became aware of her presence.

She had watched long enough to know she needed to hide and hide well. They were leaving and the sensible course was to keep out of sight until they had gone. She returned to her hiding place and squirreled in for the night, wondering what Stygian nightmare she had found herself. This was the 21st century and yet her plane had gone down because of an ambush by a fire-breathing dragon.

It didn't get much weirder than that.

The next morning, Lori awoke to find herself thankfully alone in the town.

Her brief exploration what she had surmised the night before; everyone was dead and if they weren't dead, they had wisely left before they met the grisly demise of those who had not. Each house she entered was the scene of some violence with grisly discoveries waiting to be found. When she did not find blood, she instead noted evidence of yet another hasty departure. After trying to use a dozen phones, Lori gathered the tools she needed to start the car she had found.

Sparks bit into her hand as she connected the exposed wires, with Lori holding her breath in anticipation that her attempts to start the vehicle would succeed this time. After a dozen attempts, her frustration was growing and her desire to escape this ghost town was making her more than a little impatient. No one in the outside world knew what was going on and what was worse yet; the government's attempt to maintain the information blackout was worsening the situation. No one had any idea what was coming their way and by the time they did, it would be too late.

A rumble of the engine after another burst of electricity brought the car to life and Lori let out a cry of triumph. Unfortunately, upon sitting up and taking a look at the gauges, it seemed her luck was only half good. The gauge on the gas tank indicated that it was almost empty. With another curse, Lori powered down the engine and went in search of gas. Considering what she had seen, she wanted to have fuel enough to get her to the nearest military base, which in this case was at Barnstaple at Chivenor. Military bases had their own means of communication and she was certain that they'd have some way around this blackout, possibly even escaped the range of it

She walked to the local gas station and found that the pumps were not working. No big surprise, Lori thought to herself, power lines were undoubtedly damaged in the fires. Hoping to find a jerry can at least, she walked to the closed garage and pulled open the sliding door. It was heavy and creaked as it moved along its rails. Entering the darkness, she pushed the door further along, intending to let in more light so she could see.

The first thing that hit her was the stench.

Its stink was so potent and ripe that Lori's stomach hollowed immediately. She nearly gagged and wondered, against her better judgment, what could possibly be in here, in a garage to cause this rancid stench. Widening the door did not help and Lori reached into her flight jacket to pull out her trusty Zippo lighter to provide some illumination on the subject. A second later, she wished she hadn't. As if the night before hadn't been some twisted chamber of horrors, what she saw now destroyed any attempt at bravado that Lori tended to wear around herself when she was hiding her fear.

The bodies were wrapped in silk, dangling from the ceiling.

Not all of them of them were dead and although there was nothing to be done for them. The eggs sacs had been fastened around their flesh and during the course of formation, the tiny hatchling inside them had begun to feed. If these people were still alive than she couldn't begin to imagine what they agony they were enduring. What parts of them she could see resembled dry husks like cordwood and some were missing limbs as they were slowly eaten alive by hungry hatchlings. She counted a dozen easily and knew she couldn't leave them like this.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered and pulled out her gun, taking aim at them.

If they heard her, they certainly did not answer.

The first bullet cracked its victim skull with a wet splatter but it was to Lori's horror that there wasn't blood enough in the body to cause any crimson spray. Spiders fed by desiccating their meals, she reminded herself, there wouldn't be much blood.

Suddenly a flurry of movement caught her eye and she heard a sound like something wet tearing. Holding up her lighter, trying to see what this might be, she began to retreat out the door when she was stopped by the sound of something scratching against the wood. First it was singular and then it became many, until she decided that it was time to leave. She turned to the door and saw them, like a black swarm barring her way, daring her to cross the threshold.

"Screw this," Lori thought, bracing herself before leaping through the entry.

One of them landed on her back and the size of it was like a cat. Ignoring her revulsion, she grabbed one of its legs and ripped if off her flight suit, flinging it aside. Not allowing herself time to think of twice, Lori took aim and fired. The infant spider had just enough time to roll onto its spindly legs and skitter towards her when the .357 shells tore it apart with sickly squelch. However, it appeared she was nowhere out of trouble. The swarm began to run down the doorway and spilled out into concrete, coming towards her.

No way was she going to be dealing with these things while trying to find an escape out of town. Looking at the abandoned shop front of the gas station, Lori ran into the establishment and scanned the aisle for what she needed. She didn't have much time, they were starting to spread out, some after her, some not. In either case, she wasn't letting them get past this point. The soldier in her refused to let it happen. Picking up what she needed, a handful of them, she hurled the bottle into the thickest part of the swarm.

The glass bottle shattered, spraying the creatures with its yellowish fluid. Wasting no time, she let out a round and stood back as the turpentine ignited thanks to the effect a full metal jacket bullet had on concrete. They screamed in agony as the flames lit them up and she saw others retreating before she flung another bottle in that direction and set that alight to. She continued to do so until they had retreated into the garage. Then she threw the remaining bottles into it and set that alight too.

XXXXXXXXX

Astonishing as it might seem, the thoughts of Legolas Greenleaf were not fixed upon the rampage of Sauron through Arda but rather on the wife that was sailing not only to London with Cirdan but further away from _him_.

He knew that he was to blame for much of what had transpired between them and shocked as he might have been for her desire to dissolve their union, if not their bonding, Legolas could not find it in himself to deny her. In fact, as he assessed his conduct over the years, he realized a good deal of what she said was truthful. He was drawn to her because she was Melia in another life. His whole impetus for becoming her husband was because of his love for the Ranger he had wedded in Arda.

The Ranger he had never been able to let go.

He had clung to the memory of her and forgotten all about Ariel. His regret was profound but he did not know how to change, did not know how to alter the course he had unwisely set. Legolas longed for his wife but only because she radiated the spirit of his old love. He wondered if he had ever bothered to even know his wife, the woman not the soul. To his shame, he knew the answer was no.

Perhaps it was for the best that they went their separate ways…

The thought was not allowed to complete itself as it was interrupted by the sudden crack of gunfire.

Legolas straightened up immediately, the keen senses of his elven hearing allowing him to hear before anyone else in the SUV vehicle that Bryan was driving. Since their departure from Mithlond, they had been traveling east to London, one of Sauron's places of power. The journey there had been harrowing to say the least since it was a path littered by scenes of terrible carnage. The devastation caused by Sauron's army of fell beasts shocked even the most jaded of them and after awhile, there was an unspoken decision to forge on ahead and not pause unless there was real need to.

It would serve no purpose to fill their heads with so much destruction for the more they saw it, the greater the risk that their belief in Sauron's defeat would be diminished.

"We have to stop," Fred declared from her place in between Miranda and Frank.

"What?" Bryan demanded, shooting a look to the back seats.

"Fred, are you sure?" Miranda asked although she was fairly certain that if the girl said they needed to stop, then they needed to stop.

"She speaks true Bryan," Legolas spoke up before the girl could answer. "I heard the fire of guns."

"What direction?" the former MI6 man asked automatically.

"Over there," Legolas pointed to a stretch of road.

"Exeter is in that direction," Eric commented. "It's the only large town around here."

"That's where we have to go." Fred reaffirmed, glancing at both Frank and Miranda as she spoke.

"Then that's where we'll go luv," Frank retorted, still going through the motions that it was a child seated between himself and his wife even though everything that Fred had said and done since they left Valinor said otherwise. Nevertheless, the occupant of Fred's body had been wrong about nothing since they had arrived here. While Elrond and Galadriel knew who it was inside her, neither was about to reveal it and the girl herself, remained damnably evasive.

Bryan wasted no time, turning off the A30 highway on to the stretch of road that led to Exeter. From the highway, they could see the steady column of billowing smoke rising from the ground. It wasn't the first sign of fire they had seen since they had returned home. Sauron's dragons had turned much of the English countryside into a flaming pyre. The former lord of Mordor was ensuring that anyone who escaped the destruction would have nothing to return back to.

Alpington Road took them straight into Exeter and as soon as the township began to surround them on either side of the SUV, the evidence of Sauron's presence began to show rather prolifically. The scene was no different than any they had seen since leaving Mithlond as they passed burnt out buildings, damaged shop fronts and cars that had crashed into lamp posts and halted owing to some similar violence. Deep gouges that ran across the smooth finish, parallel to one another, added further evidence to the fates of those who had resided in this community but likely lived no more.

"Jesus," Aaron uttered bitterly, "I don't think it's going to stop making me sick no matter how many times I see the same thing."

The sound of gunfire was audible to all of them now and Bryan put his foot on the gas, being an old hat at this long enough to know how which direction it came from to get there quickly. The gunfire was coming from the same place as the column of smoke that was steadily increasing its volume as it emptied dark ash into the air.

XXXXXXXXX

In retrospect, Lori realized that burning down the spider hatchery was probably not such a good idea.

Mostly because upon discovering the eminent danger, the hatchlings had erupted from their sacs, found the quickest way out of the burning building before joining the remainder of their rather irate that had not been trapped with fire.

And like all new predators, the first thing on their mind was food.

Unfortunately as Lori was responsible for burning down their nest where their parents had left them _provisions_ that left her as their best source of nourishment since she was the only living thing left in Exeter. Chased by a swarm of the damn things, Lori's attempt to disperse them with stray rounds had done little to halt their pursuit. She considered taking refuge in a building but knew that was no answer. She had seen what had happened to the citizens of Exeter who had tried that strategy. She had no desire to end up cocooned and hanging off a web like some bug.

The best plan she had was the car she had been working on. It didn't have much gas but at least it would get her far enough away from here to come up with another plan or better, yet, not be eaten for awhile. Not being eaten for a while was really the foremost thought on her mind as she tore down the road, emptying rounds into the sea of black bodies behind her. After this day, no spider of any size was going to survive long near her person.

The Air Force lieutenant focused on getting away and did not think about how close or persistent the creatures were. If she began to think on that, she might as well let the things kill her now because she'd be no good to anyone let her alone herself. She maintained this line of reasoning when the last bullet impacted against the round body of a spider, splattering noisome material over the others around it. Lori felt her stomach hollow when she saw a group of them close in on their dead sibling and feeding, giving her a clear indication of just how ravenous they were.

Suddenly, amidst all this, she heard what sounded awfully like the drone of a car engine.

Her heart swelling with hope, Lori hoped this wasn't the product of wishful thinking as she put more power into her strides, determined to gain a few more precious feet so that she could stay alive long enough to find the vehicle in question. She had been a runner in high school but even her reserves were being stretched to the limit. If she didn't rest soon, her legs were going to give out.

_Its game over then Lorelei. Thank you for playing. Nope, sorry not going to go out as a bug smorgasbord. Air force people didn't die as insect food. They died surrounded by twisted metal and glass, the way God intended. _

When the SUV skidded around the corner, Lori came to an abrupt halt.

Behind her, the spiders were gaining and she resumed running, putting the last of her reserves to close the distance between her and the vehicle. Discarding her useless gun, she saw the driver swing the wheel hard, turning the vehicle around so that the back of the vehicle faced her. For a moment, she almost thought that they were going to leave but then the SUV came to a screeching halt. The hatch door lifted open and a blond woman was shouting at her.

"Get in! Get in!"

Don't have to tell me twice sister, Lori thought to herself as she put everything she had into reaching the vehicle. The spiders sensing that their prey was close to escape had begun launching themselves at her in a desperate attempt to stop Lori from reaching safe harbor. The distance she had gained was narrowing and when she looked behind her to see the ferocity of the pursuit, Lori knew if she didn't reach that SUV in the next few seconds, she'd never leave Exeter alive.

"HURRY!" A male voice shouted.

Deciding to make or break, Lori jumped the last few feet, her knees making contact with the carpeted floor of the vehicle when she landed. Her kneecaps flared with pain and she felt hands pulling her the rest of the way in. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the spiders jumping forward too.

"GO! GO! GO!" She demanded.

The spiders began jumping off the paved road towards the open door.

"BRYAN GO!" Miranda shouted as one of the filthy beasts landed inches away from the new arrival's feet. The woman's reacting was swift as she brought down a heavy combat boot down on its mid section before a powerful kick sent it hurtling out of the car back onto the road.

Bryan hit the accelerator and sent the car lurching forward, causing his passengers to jerk back and forth unceremoniously as the vehicle escaped its stationary position. The woman they had rescued was scrambling toward the hatch door, slamming it shut on what appeared to be a dark spindly leg attempting to climb into the main body of the car. With a sickening squelch, the door shut heavily and they were off, leaving behind the swarm on insects on the road.

"Hey you alright?" Aaron asked the dark haired woman who was breathing hard and regaining her composure from the front of the SUV. "You hurt?"

"Oh I'm just goddamn peachy!" Lori cursed, letting her nerves settle after that rather nerve-wracking night but grateful to hear a familiar accent.

"Ah you Yanks turn such a lovely phrase," Eric smirked in Aaron's direction.

"Yeah right," Lori retorted looking over her rescuers, "because Russell Crowe is such a _class_ act."

Eric opened his mouth to respond but was given a look of sisterly warning from Miranda.

"_Behave_," she ordered before turning back to Lori. "Are you alright?" She asked the question and this time, she wanted a proper answer.

"I'm fine," Lori said recognizing the woman as someone who was accustomed to being in charge. She had no problems with that, especially when these people had saved her from what would have a pretty awful death. "Thanks for coming by when you did. I don't think I was going to keep ahead of those things much longer."

Legolas was staring at the woman, thinking that this was indeed a perfect example of Aaron's more description of their past selves finding each other again, cosmic turntables indeed.

Lori caught the blond man staring and furrowed her brow when she noticed something strange about him.

"Hey," she declared to no one in particular. "What's with the ears?"

XXXXXXXXX

London Bridge had fallen down.

It had taken less than an hour after the first watcher had collided against the underwater pylons for a good portion of the bridge to crumble and disappear beneath the waters of the Thames. Normally a catastrophe of this magnitude would draw attention of September 11 proportions but hardly anyone had time to react to the destruction of one of London's most enduring landmarks. Everyone was too busy dealing with the more immediate threat that was facing the Southwark and Tower bridge motorists. Having devastated London Bridge, the terrible creatures were now concentrating on these instead and causing motorists to endure the same nightmare that Megan Stanley had found herself facing before her untimely demise.

Emergency services and police were galvanized into action but their rescue efforts were hampered by a number of factors; firstly they had no idea what it was they were dealing with and secondly, an even greater peril had shown itself in the form of the great dragons who were now bathing south London in flames. From Fenchurch to St Paul's Cathedral, the beasts flew above roof tops on houses and buildings alike, setting anything that was within reach ablaze. London was in a state of chaos that no amount of terrorist response preparation had been able to predict.

This time however, David Saeran did nothing to disrupt the communication blackout that had kept the southwest in the dark. This time, he let the news crews with their cameras capable of invading every home, every computer on the planet; see what he wanted them to see. They took in the grisly images of the bridges and the humans on it who were torn apart by the watchers. He allowed the world to see his dragons swooping down on London and laying the city to waste, unstoppable and relentless.

With amusement, he watched from the backs of the winged beasts, the army being mobilized to deal with the Watchers. Soldiers were rallied from Wellington barracks and by the look of them, not the usual infantry. These were SAS men, the former Lord of Mordor noted and upon realizing this felt a sliver of hatred run through him recalling that Bryan Miller was one of these. With their guns and their missile launchers, they approached the bridges, attempting to deal with the beasts.

A large group of these so called 'special forces' types approached Southwark bridge in an attempt to rescue the slowly dwindling number of people who were still left alive that hadn't been taken by the Watchers and had yet to reach safety. Saeran watched as Morgul's beast descended upon them. From his vantage point on top of Mansion House, he watched his most powerful lieutenant stepped fearlessly into the fray, with Khamul and Ren at his side. The humans had no idea what to make of these dark robed figures and reacted in almost predictable fashion.

The hail of bullets from their Bren machines guns did little to halt the Nazgul whom Saeran had ensured would never be hurt by the weapons of man and this occasion was no different. Morgul seemed to move through the bullets as if they were hardly there and as the soldiers recovered from this, the Nazul paused before them. His abrupt stop confused them and Saeran smile when he saw them reloading their weapons, desperately seeking another avenue of attack.

It never came.

The Black Breath escaped the trio of wraiths and struck down anyone in its path, soldier and civilian alike. In the surrounding buildings, all who heard it immediately felt into a dark malaise of despair, frozen in place unable to do anything. The soldiers crumbled to their knees, unable to fight the dark magic as their weapons clattered uselessly to the ground.

Suddenly the sound erupted with the sound of powerful engines as Saeran looked up to see even more planes approaching the dragons in the distance. Probably from Tidwoth or even Plymouth. Really it only took 30 minutes for any plane to reach London, Saeran thought. The dragons had been enjoying themselves immensely with the fighter planes, having torn most of them apart like delightful new toys. This time was no different as he saw them break off their efforts in razing London to the ground and flew to greet the approaching planes.

After all, even dragons knew how to play.

XXXXXXXXX

If Elrond had been sequestered away during the voyage to London, it had been with good reason. His gift of foresight was allowing him a far clearer view of what was taking place in the city of London than he would have preferred. Each death struck at him like the lash and though he knew that it was not his fault, being able to visualize the destruction and horror of these unsuspecting mortals took their toll upon him. However, as always, the Lord of Imladris rose above such evil to be strong for those who needed courage.

Emerging into the deck, he saw in the distance the pillars of smoke rising into the sky from the land in the distance. They had sailed with the shore within sight, navigating the coast of the islands that had once been the Shire. While its present residents did not recall its history, Elrond could sense that the land itself remembered quite clearly.

As he stepped onto the deck, he saw his fellow elves hard at work. Indeed, many had been engaged in such duty since they had departed Valinor and continued this labour through the voyage. Ahead of the fleet they could see the ripples in the water that indicated the passage of Captain Hill's own undersea vehicle. Elrond like Cirdan, could not imagine a more indifferent way of traveling in Ulmo's realm. How could one travel so deep in the ocean and be so far removed away from all its beauty and power at the same time?

The ways of the Edain could be very strange at times.

"Can you feel it?" Elrond asked as he approached Cirdan who stood at the bow of his ship, watching the smoke rising in the distance, a beacon of darkness calling out to all who saw it.

"Yes," Cirdan nodded, his voice hushed and disturbed. "He is far stronger than he has ever been. The girl was right; he has taken Morgoth's power for his own. I do not know if we have strength enough to stop him."

"It is the End of Days my friend," Elrond patted him on the back. "It may not be fate that this be stopped at all. It may be that our only role is to fight."

"Even if it means our deaths?" Cirdan looked at the younger lord in question.

"We've lived long Cirdan," Elrond met the sea master's gaze with a raised brow. "We have seen gods walk among us, we have paid court to kings and wizards. We have lived well. There is no shame in its end."

Cirdan nodded ruefully, "I suppose that is true."

"If it must end," Elrond looked ahead to the horizon. "Can you think not of a better way to enter Mandos than in fighting for a cause that is as great as the one we now face?"

"You always knew how to keep things in perspective," Cirdan broke into a grin. "No, I cannot think of a better way to leave this world."

"Neither can I," Elrond shared his smile and then added. "Still, we are not defeated, not yet at least. How many of harpoons do we have?"

With a determined set to his jaw, Cirdan answered firmly and with no small measure of pride. "Enough to give Sauron the war he craves."

Elrond nodded and continued to stare at the smoke filled sky, growing nearer and nearer as the elven fleet left the English Channel and began up the length of the great River Thames.

"Well then Cirdan," he said with his head held high and his eyes fixed on the road head, whatever the outcome, "in the words of the Edain, let us cry havoc and slip the dogs of war."


	12. Chapter Eleven

**CHAPTER 11: THE WHITE TOWER**

After one hundred thousand years, Sauron had finally claimed the White Tower.

Granted it was not the same White Tower erected in Minas Tirith by King Calimehtar as a challenge to his own Barad-dûr in Mordor but it would suffice. The King had built his tower as a beacon of hope, a shining affront to the lord of Mordor that the armies of light would prevail no matter what assault Sauron could hurl at them. Of course, now the city of Minas Tirith, the kingdom of Gondor was a memory and the tower he stood upon now was in fact the Tower of London, sometimes called the White Tower.

Still, Sauron, now David Saeran, took the symbolism for what it was.

Thanks to the Nine, the forces sent to battle them at London Bridge had not only been defeated by their Black Breath but the dragons had seen to it that they received no support from the air. Downed planes burned where they had crashed throughout the city, their demise marked by tendrils of smoke rising into the air in the distance. The watchers had now claimed the Thames, moving up and down the length of the river, killing anyone foolish enough to attempt a crossing at the numerous bridges. Saeran allowed them their play, giving them their just reward after so many millennia forced into hiding, feeding on scraps. Today, his minions would feed.

The trail of destruction that began at Sennen Cove in Cornwall had followed them in their march east, with the cities of Reading, Maidenhead and Hounslow falling to the onslaught of his fell army before they arrived in London itself. Once there, it did not take them long to ensure that city was soon enveloped in the same scourge of fire as the others preceding it. Now London burned as dragon breathe reduced it to a cinder. Its tall buildings ignited like matches, the flame spread quickly to the surrounding buildings, setting ablaze centuries of civilization in a day.

People were scattering in all directions, desperate to escape the carnage once it became clear that the police and the army could do nothing to save them. Roads leading north and southwards were jammed with vehicles, trying to outrun this unlikeliest of enemies, who for many of them until today, existed only in myths. Except these myths had become flesh and were craving blood and meat. The ravenous reach of the host that he had unleashed from the Forbidden Vaults was growing swiftly, pursuing the seemingly inexhaustible source of food.

Saeran did nothing to bring his servants to heel. He wanted them to feast well for they would need the sustenance. As it was, he could feel the presence of the enemy approaching. The elves were coming and they were close, however, Saeran remained unconcerned. His servants were many, not just those released from the vaults but the others he had cultivated over the centuries. Creatures, forced into hiding in the deep places of the world, had waited for so long to be able to answer his call to arms.

In the sky above, Searan could see the dragon's circling; lording over their mastery of the sky to the terrified Londoners who had yet to become prey to his army of were in the midst of fleeing the city. With a smile, he saw one of the dragons perched atop Big Ben, bellowing its cry of triumph as its saurian neck lifted to the sky and sent a column of flame into the air that parted the clouds above. Its voice rallied the others to do the same and soon the terrible song of the dragon settled over the city like a fine layer of cinder.

They were joined by the Nazgul who travelled the air for a wholly different reason; to watch for the coming of the elves in their fleet of Teleri ships. Through their eyes, he could see the length and breadth of the Thames, the flotsam of dead bodies that had been left in the wake of the Watcher's feeding frenzy, the detritus of modern civilization in half submerged cars, pieces of clothing and shattered mobile phones. They flew astride their mounts, winged beasts that had been birthed by Melkor at the beginning of the world, older even than dragons. Their wings flapped in great beats as they carried their Nazgul masters, their eyes seeking out any sign of the approaching fleet.

Stepping off the balcony, he retreated into the stairwell that spiraled to the top of Bell Tower, where prisoners of the highest standing were once kept. It was time he attended to the other matter that was as equally important as the task of conquering the free world. In the past, he had always gambled to win without any consideration given to the consequences of loss. Even in recent times, when he had made his bid to retake the world, he was once again thwarted by the children of Gondor and doomed to a prison of flesh in Valinor.

Not this time, this time he would have an escape and his escape would be in the cruelest place imaginable.

Ascending the staircase, he took the path that had been taken by the likes of William Wallace, Charles of Orleans and Elizabeth the First, to reach the cell that was the highest room of the tower. In it, he had placed his unwilling companion, she who wore Luthien's face but none of her spirit, more valuable to him because of the seed she carried and the instrument upon which he would avenge himself for the trespasses of Isildur, Aragorn Elessar and now Aaron Stone.

Reaching the heavy door, he needed no key to open it. A mere exertion of power and that door swung open as if a strong gust of wind had blown it open. As it slammed against the wall, he saw Eve who was sitting on the wide gap before the large window at the end of the room, shrink into the shadows a little more, perhaps hoping she would remain unseen. She was dressed in a loose dress now, acquired for her when her own clothes had been discarded after his last private visit.

He saw her wiping her cheeks quickly, obviously trying to hide the fact that she had been crying from him before lowering her hands to envelope her swollen belly, a futile attempt to protect the baby in her belly. The proud defiance was gone from her features though he still saw sparks of it in her eyes. He suspected that until he laid her husband's body in front of her, cold and lifeless, he would not be able to drive from her the hope of rescue.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked disturbed by what she was seeing outside her window, the city of London in ruins with so much blood spilt it could be scented on the wind, along with the smoke.

"I believed we'd already discussed this," he commented before pausing and leaning against the wall, near the window she was perched, "the world of men gone, burnt to a cinder as it should have been in the Third age."

"You could do anything," she shook her head, thinking that if perhaps understood the monster, maybe there was a way out of this for her and her baby. "Why destroy it? You've got more than enough power to rule the world."

The conversation spark a hint of amusement in him for it was always a welcome change when she wasn't whining her captivity or hurling impotent threats at him for what he and his army were doing.

"We all have our parts to play in destiny," he said enigmatically. "The time of the Eldar and the Edain is coming to an end. The world changes to suit whatever comes next and this time I intend to shape that outcome. Humans are paranoid and reactionary, what they will do to fight me will ruin this Earth far more effectively than anything my dragons or Nazgul could ever conjure. All I have to do is to frighten them enough and it will unfold as I will it."

Inwardly Eve cringed because he was right. She knew what humans were like. The last two years in the company of elves had taught her to look at her race with fresh eyes. For all their advancements, humans had evolved little. They still fought over things that ought to be shared, allowed borders and petty rivalries to lead to the bloodiest battles and remained ignorant to each other's suffering. Why couldn't Saeran succeed in his plan if he threatened them enough?

She was still pondering these thoughts when suddenly she felt a stab of pain lanced through her belly. There was a brief flash of clarity before the agony took her, when she realized what he was doing and shot him a look of pleading mercy, even though she knew she'd get nothing from him. The pain drove her off the window ledge, to the floor until she was on her hands and knees, staring up at him like a dog.

"No…" she started to whimper, "not _again_."

And for the second time since this nightmare had begun, Eve found herself screaming.

She screamed so loudly that the sound penetrated the walls of the tower and caused the wargs currently occupying the compound of the Royal Fusiliers Museum to howl with her, as if they could feel their master's evil power in her tortured voice. The agony wracking her body was as excruciating as before but now, her strength weakened she could hold nothing back. There was no pride left in her for even an obligatory attempt to maintain her composure.

Inside her womb, she could feel her son's pain as Saeran's unnatural power assaulted his tiny body. His pain caused her more anguish than the agony that what she was experiencing herself. What was he thinking? Was there enough awareness in him to understand what was happening or did he simply feel and nothing else? She wanted to soothe his hurts and yet she couldn't even help herself. Half screaming and half pleading, what ability was left in her mind to think forced to concede that she may have to promise him anything, that she would have to surrender to Saeran for mercy. For her child, she would do anything.

In no way that science could even explain, Eve knew her child was terrified, that within her womb, her baby, innocent and unknowing was crying out in pain. His little mouth making soundless cries as his tiny body continued to develop at an alarming rate, the natural development of his body accelerated by Saeran's power. As he grew faster, her belly continued to swell, inflating like a balloon. She could feel her abdomen distending, cramping, clenching against the power that was shaping her like a figure of clay, protesting against the magic that was hastening her baby's birth.

Once again, she lay in filth of vomit and urine, unable to exert any control over her bodily functions in the midst of this torture. Humiliated and broken, Eve's pain was such that she had completely forgotten that she was not alone in her cell. Saeran watched her dispassionately. He saw no pleasure in her agony as this was a task to be performed, the way the men who worked in an abattoir viewed the cows they were forced to slaughter. It was a necessary evil.

While Saeran wouldn't consider what he was doing to Eve McCaughley evil, it was necessary for his ultimate revenge.

Eve had not fallen unconscious this time, perhaps because she was becoming inured to the pain but she couldn't decide if this was a blessing or a curse. When the pain ended, she collapsed against the hard floor, panting hard, sobbing in despair at her cruel circumstance. She couldn't let this continue, couldn't let him turn her baby into a slave or worst yet a monster. She shuddered as she wept, oblivious to him, wishing her hate could become tangible and strangle the smug bastard where he stood.

"I think that will be all for now," he said finally, tired of the screaming.

It was such a pity, he found himself thinking, not for the first time, that she had not inherited Luthien's sweet siren voice. The memory of the lady's song when he ruled _Tol-in-Gaurhoth_, the Isle of Werewolves had been one of the few memories he had that could be considered pleasant. Perhaps it was also part of the reason why Eve was still alive.

"Leave me alone you bastard!" She hissed, spitting out the words like venom. As she tried to hug her knees to her chest, Eve discovered with fresh horror that she couldn't. She knew that he was warping her body to shape his own needs but until now hadn't realised how much. She didn't look like she was two months or even five months pregnant any more; she looked like she was seven or eight. Her body was ripened, its fruit almost ready to be picked.

"Oh God," she gasped at the realization, sobbing fresh tears. "Please," she met his gaze, desperate for any kind of clemency. "No more, I'm begging you no more."

He would have smiled but gloating seemed followed at the moment. Instead, he said brusquely as he started to leave the room, his back to her as he spoke, "I trust you will be able to attend to yourself this time?"

Eve let out a cry of frustration and rage, shouting after him. "BASTARD!"

* * *

BILLINGSGATE FISH MARKET

EAST LONDON

It was hard to believe the building with the stately appearance overlooking the Thames with domed ceilings and ornate architecture was actually home to one of London's oldest institutions, the Billingsgate Fish Market, however, that was precisely what it was. On a good day, the courtyard outside the building fronting the river would be filled with fish mongers selling their wares in barely hygienic stalls, with the salty stench of the sea wafting through the place and clinging to the clothes of all comers.

For the beast called Draugluin, made whole upon his release from the Forbidden Vaults, it was a moment to rejoice as he feasted on the bodies of the freshly killed with his wolf brothers and distant cousins, the wargs. They had moved across this place like a scourge, quickly overtaking the fleeing men and women who had tried vainly to escape their jaws. There was a symphony of screams whose song was as sweet anything sung by an elf as Draugluin, led his people to the feasting that came with slaughter.

Some had leapt into the water, trying to escape the death of crushing jaws only to fine that the river was no safer. The Watchers were happy to claim any food that was within its reach. The ground ran red with spilled blood as they hunted, stalked and brought down the prey. The race of men had always provided the best sport for they were more delightful to hunt than any creature and the meat just as tasty.

Draugluin moved through the killing floor, his paws as big as plates, his bulk the size of a small elephant and as he passed his brethren, some of whom were shaking their prey by the necks as if needing proof of death, his muscles made his russet pelt shimmer under the sunlight. He thought with some acrimony that when he had been killed by Beren, it was his pelt that the hero had taken and the thought made his blood boil, made him yearn for a fresh taste of man flesh. He needed the taste of blood to wash away the taste of that indignity.

A woman screamed and Draugluin the father of werewolves turned to see that somehow one female had escaped, she was making for the water and the great beast bared his teeth in the semblance of a smile and launched himself upon her. His paw landed on her back, driving her into the concrete ground. Her arms and legs struggled until his weight crushed her spine and by the time he snapped his jaws around her head, she was incapable of offering any resistance. He lifted his great neck and pulled her skull of her shoulders with ease, ending her final scream abruptly. Widening his jaws, he barely chewed as he swallowed her head down his throat.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over him and Draugluin reared his head to the sky to see Morgul astride Gnash, hovering over him. The beast retreated as did the other wolves feeding, clearing a space for the Witch King to descend. The winged creature touched upon the ground, its wide wings folding neatly to its sides as its master beckoned Draugluin to come forward with fingers encased in amour.

Draugluin snorted, his nostrils flaring annoyance at the summons but stepped forward nonetheless. His yellow eyes narrowing as he stared at Sauron's chief lieutenant. "What is it you will of me, Nazgul?" He asked, sounding more like the uneasy tremor of the earth than a voice speaking its mind.

"Are you happy to grow fat with easy prey or would you care to undertake some business for me?"

"For you?" Draugluin retorted, his brow furrowing at the question.

"For me…yes," Morgul answered, his voice a hiss. "The children of the shield bitch are on these shores. When the time comes, having them in our power will make her bend to our will like the whore she is. Bring them to me, alive and unharmed and I will let you feed on a ring bearer when our victory is complete."

Of course Morgul had ulterior motives that lay closer to home but there was no need for Draugluin to know this. What was required of the hound was obedience.

A ring bearer, Draughlin's ears twitched in interest. Child flesh was tender enough but a child that was a ring bearer? That was an especial treat, one that Draugluin was happy to entertain. His mouth watered at the thought, clear rivulets of saliva hung pendulously from his jaws.

"How do I find them? I must have scent to track."

"Return the way we came," Morgul continued to instruct. "Retrace our destruction and you will find their scent, journeying northwards."

"How can you know this?" Draugluin asked and then again, decided he should have known better than to ask. The Nazgul and the master had their ways of gathering intelligence.

"Our allies are more than just the beasts of the Forbidden Vaults. There are creatures here in Arda that are willing to share in our victory. Carrion eaters who know that war makes for plentiful feeding are our eyes and ears. They speak of the children being taken to the lands of the north. Do as I instruct and you will find them."

"And if I encounter others who are our enemies?" The greatest of the werewolves asked.

"If you must ask the question that you are not the hunter of legend," Morgul taunted.

Draugluin snorted once again in contempt and replied with a growl now that the compact was agreed upon. "It will be done."

Gnash's wings extended outward, flapping once again, extending to its full span before it let out a screech that made the wolves howl back in response. A second flap and it was airborne, with Morgul's robes flowing along the sides of the beast. Draugluin watched rider and beast soar into the sky, rejoining the other wraiths who had had taken mastery of the sky, now that he'd been given new instructions to follow.

"Remember," Morgul warned once more in parting, "they are no use to me _dead_."

"I know my duty," Draugluin retorted and then turned to his brothers and summoned them forth in a roar loud enough to shatter glass in unbroken windows. Fragments few in all directions as the wolves approached him and he delivered his demands in sharp barks that conveyed Morgul's instructions.

And with that, Draugluin set off with his pack, embarking on a hunt, ready for the kill.

Ready to feast upon a ring bearer.

* * *

"That's impossible," Aaron declared after hearing Lori Hill's story about what she'd seen in the town of Exeter after she had been forced to make an emergency ejection from her fighter over that town.

They were on the motorway, having left Exeter behind and flanking Taunton on route to London. The multi-lane road was devoid of cars and there was nothing on the radio. Whatever power Searan had used to interfere with communication, it seemed to be continuing the closer they reached the capital. Ahead of them, the clouds were grey and heavy, threatening to rain but not quite managing. Yet there was an eerie stillness in the air likened to the sharp intake of breath before a scream.

Lori had related experience in Exeter, how she'd seen the Nine and Saeran leaving the ruined town, taking with them their terrible army of darkness. Most of what she had revealed came as no surprise to any of the SUV's occupants save one detail.

"It can't be Eve," Aaron insisted. "She's barely six weeks pregnant."

"The woman I saw wasn't six weeks," Lori retorted, unable to forget how terrified the poor woman had been. Her pale skin was almost white with fear. Lori had recalled feeling terribly helpless as she watched the robed Nazgul as she now understood they were called, ferrying her away on those winged monsters. "She was at least _five_ months pregnant."

"Well then it can't be Eve," Aaron retorted, aware that they were talking in a circle. He'd been relieved at first when Lori described a woman with Saeran and the Nine who had to be Eve but the last part of her description was impossible which made he question where was Eve, if this wasn't her.

"What did she look like again?" Eric asked once more, wanting to get the truth for Aaron's sake. The doctor looked like he was about to lose his head.

"I told you," Lori frowned, unable to tell whether or not she had named the right person with her description "She was very pretty, really dark hair, blue eyes and great skin. You know the creamy, supermodel kind."

"Aaron," Legolas tried to reason with his friend though he knew his words would do little to comfort Aaron. "I do not understand how this can be but the lady's description does resemble Eve. Furthermore, the possibility that Sauron would have discarded Eve for another woman with child appears to be remote and highly improbable. As impossible as it is…"

"It _is_ Eve," Fred spoke for the first time, confirming everyone's worst fears.

"You must be strong Aaron, the enemy had quickened your child's growth in her belly for his dark purpose."

Lori was looking at the faces of the people with her and wondered what kind of insanity she had wandered into. However, after everything she'd seen thus far, what with dragons, dark robed specters on flying monsters, insanity seemed the order of the day. Still none of it was as unnerving as listening to this little girl who spoke in the voice of someone far older, revealing truths that she couldn't possibly know yet felt right nonetheless.

"Dear God," Miranda whispered, stabbed to her maternal core by the horror of Saeran meddling with a baby's growth while still in the womb. "We have to get away from that animal." Her mind was still filled with the terrible sound of bone snapping when Saeran took Tory's life. She had felt so helpless then and she felt helpless now.

Aaron couldn't breathe. The walls of the car felt like they were contracting around him. He was struggling not to lose his calm but knowing that his wife was being tortured by Saeran and worse yet, his child was being twisted inside her body, made it almost too much to bear. He could hear his friends trying to speak words of comfort but there was none to be had, not when Eve was still in Saeran's power and now something was happening to the baby too?

"Why?" He managed to ask, not expecting an answer. Whatever force was occupying the little girl's body seemed to offer intelligence in dribs and drabs but Aaron took what he could or else he'd end up screaming.

"Because he wants to make you suffer," Bryan spoke for the first time. "He wants the baby born before you die so you can see it, so you die knowing he's won."

"Jesus," Aaron whispered, his face turning ashen because Bryan was right. There was no other reason for Saeran's actions other than spite. He wanted to kill the bastard, murder the son of a bitch with his hands. Aaron had never wanted to kill anything in his life as much as he wanted David Saeran dead.

"Alright enough," Frank spoke sharply, reminding everyone that some delicacy needed to be shown because Aaron's fears were getting out of control and it would not take much to send him over the edge. "The best way to help Eve is to reach her."

Suddenly, Fred's head snapped sharply to the rear window, her blue eyes staring down the road they had left. "STOP!"

Her cry made Bryan jam his foot on the brake causing everyone inside the vehicle to be jostled forward and then back again.

"What…what is it?" He demanded anxious, the car still stationery as he stared at Fred in question at her sudden outburst.

"Are you people completely crazy?" Lori declared, unable to keep up with everything that was taking place around her. However, no one appeared to be eager to answer her as they seemed to be taking their cues from the little girl. Another weird thing she couldn't figure out.

"Just take it easy," Eric tried to placate the woman, appreciating that an outsider might have difficulty following anything they were saying right now. The woman was being dropped into this cold and Eric, who was used to all the strangeness had to admit, they were taking in a lot in a short time.

Fred looked to Miranda and for the first time, her features were devoid of the calm they had been accustomed to seeing in her since departing Valinor. In fact, her expression was anxious and disturbed. "Your children are in danger."

"What?" Miranda exclaimed, her heart starting to pound as she thought of Sam and Pip in the arms of that monster _again_. "What do you mean?"

"The Witch King sends him minions after the Ring bearer," Fred answered and looked Miranda in the eye. "He's still fears you, even if you are no longer the shield maiden of Rohan. He still fears that at the moment of his greatest triumph at his master's side, you have it in your power to destroy him, that weakness he cannot abide. Thus he seeks to gain your subservience by capturing your children."

"That's not going to happen," Frank retorted, maintaining his composure even though he was no less alarmed than Miranda at this sudden turn of events. However, Frank had learnt that he had to be the voice of reason when his wife was not. "Bryan, first car we see, stop. Miranda and I are going after them." He spoke with a tone that broke no argument from anyone in the SUV.

"Alone?" Bryan shot his brother a look of alarm. Frank wasn't a fighter, not the way Miranda was and there was no telling what that damn Nazgul had sent after his nephews. "You don't know what it's sent after the kids…"

"We don't have a choice," Frank cut him off because there was no argument that Bryan could make that would have him or Miranda stay behind. When it came to their children, there was no such thing as sense. "We're going to get our children, one way or another."

* * *

If someone had told Detective Sergeant Gerald McInnes a week ago that he'd be battling monsters in front of a fish and chip shop in Bermondsey Wall, he have thought they were barmy. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen his share of monsters in this job. After ten years as a policeman, he encountered all manner of villains, pedophiles, rapists, thieves and murderers. He'd come face to face with the depths of human ugliness and he coped with it by retreating to his little house in Blackheath, potter about the garden and all would be right with the world again.

Unfortunately after today, he'd have to spend a _year_ in his garden before he was able to feel that safe again.

The last twelve hours had seemed like something a nightmare.

All through the day, they'd been hearing reports of something approaching from Cornwall. It was all jumbled mess really. Telephones weren't working, radios spat out some nonsense about flying creatures that were downing airplanes and they'd thought it was some kind of a joke, like the sort that Orson Wells pulled on the Americans during that fabled War of the Worlds broadcast. Then there were people flooding into London from the west, evacuating on mass, fleeing from burning cities with stories of a monster army that was slaughtering everyone in sight.

Large spiders, wolves the size of bears, goblin men and giant trolls, wielding maces and blades, cutting down civilians, eating them as they moved through the countryside, led by dragons the size of 747s, breathing fire and oh…Dementors. At first the authorities had thought that this was the result of mass hysteria caused by the anguish of the Harry Potter series coming to an end. It was easy to discount such things as rubbish until the proof presented itself in a way that could not be denied.

What had happened on London Bridge was not mass hysteria. Gerald had seen it from Potter's field Park and after that, he was a believer. How could he be anything but? Leviathans had risen out of the river, massive things with too many tentacles, with maws edged with sharp, terrible teeth. He watch people desperately trying to escape, only to be turned to a cinder by the dragons' fiery breath, washing the length of the bridge with a flame so intense that nothing could escape. Those who hadn't died there had been snatched off the bridge by the leviathans, taken screaming into the Thames, leaving a pool of a red where they'd disappeared.

The F-35 fighter jets had been called into attack but there was no contest. The dragons picked apart their planes like they were toys, hurling them to earth like a child throwing away and unwanted toys and Gerald remembered the horror of watching those fighters flying into his city, a trail of fire and smoke following them until a fireball marked their crash sites across the city, creating more destruction and death.

Then the monster army from the west entered London, like a two pronged attack and Gerald didn't even know they were attack. The army was called in. He'd seen trucks with soldiers from the British Army and even those SAS blokes going to meet the creatures. He'd seen none of this at first, his duties requiring him to evacuate the city. However, it was soon evident that the soldiers were no match for whatever was coming. There was talk of the Dementors being able to turn soldiers mad and in their madness, the horde of hellish creatures devoured them with ease.

In a matter of hours, London was over run. With telephone lines down and communications disrupted, it was difficult knowing if reinforcements were coming. After all, this was the heart of the British Empire, it could not simply fall right? Gerald didn't know but when he saw the creatures moving through the streets, killing everything in sight, he knew that it was no longer possible to ponder such questions. In an effort not seen since the Blitz, London's tattered civil defense services moved into action.

The first business was to get everyone out.

They'd let the army deal with the creatures and focus on evacuating.

"Come on! Come on!" Gerald shouted at the constables who were ushering frightened civilians into a lorry they'd commandeered for the evacuation. A few streets away, Gerald could hear screaming and growls. Another slaughter was on approach and Gerald didn't know if he wanted to face what it was doing the killing. As it was, his gaze kept touching the sky, trying to keep a vigil for the dragon, fearful they'd see the big shiny lorry and get in their mind to take a look because that would only follow an incineration.

"I'm hurrying as fast as I can!" hollered Constable Janine Harris, who was helping an elderly man into the back tray of the lorry.

"Well work faster," Gerald demanded, glancing anxiously at the sky again. Gerald checked the AR-15 in his hand and turned to the other five policemen from his station. "Resh! See anything?"

Constable Kumaresh who was keeping an eye on the other end of the street, shook his head beneath the riot gear helmet he was wearing. "Nothing yet Sarge," he answered. "But lots of a noise though. We better get a move on quickly."

"No shit," Nicols, another one of his men grumbled. Nicols stood at six foot four and looked rather formidable in his riot gear, armed to the teeth with all the guns they could carry and yet, Gerald could sense the anxiety in his voice. Nicols had fought in the Falkland Wars and did a stint in Kuwait. When he got scared, you _knew_ you had to worry.

Constable Kai Chong, whose parents who'd given him an English first name that they'd thought would help him fit in but misspelled it in his birth certificate, was standing near the front of a butcher's shop window. Like the rest of his comrades, he was struggling to grasp with the unreality of the situation even though what they'd seen on the telly and with their own eyes was no illusion and there were flesh eating monsters trolling the streets of London today.

He glanced at Janine and thought fleetingly, she looked pretty hot in the riot gear and wondered if she'd like to go out for a drink when this insanity was over. Not that it was just the riot gear that had made him asked the question. She had pretty red hair and sea green eyes that lit up when she laughed. Janine was organizing the civilians into the truck.

"That's it!" She announced and he was about to answer when something appeared at the rear of his vision.

He swung around just in time to see a large yellow eyes staring at him through the glass a second before it pounced. The creature smashed through the glass, landing on top of him with such force that he was almost knocked out by the weight of its meaty paws on his chest. He closed his fingers around his gun, prepared to shoot when he realised that the weapon had fallen out of his hand…

The last thing he thought as it moved in for the kill, was thinking that he'd should have asked Janine out for a drink before this.

"KAI!" Gerald shouted as he ran forward, firing into the creature's pelt as the beast took Kai's head with barely a thought. The bullets tore through its massive bulk and the creature turned its large head towards the remaining police.

"GET GOING JANINE!" Resh ordered Janine and he and Nicols ran to join his sergeant.

"But…" the youngest of them opened her mouth to object but then she saw that there were more creatures emerging through the shop front. These ones were carrying _weapons_. Thinking about the terrified people who had broken out into cries of fear at the sight of the enemy, waiting for rescue, Janine swore under her breath and hurried to the front of the lorry and climbed behind the wheel.

Unleashing a hail of bullets at the beast, the wolf lunged at him when suddenly, something blew past his ear, coming from the direction of the Thames behind him. For a moment, Gerald wasn't sure what he was seeing until the arrow slammed into the open mouth of the creature and kept going, striking the concrete behind it. The beast twitched uncomfortably and this halted the progress of the goblin creatures that had spilled out through the shop front.

"What the hell…" Nicols exclaimed.

"GET CLEAR!" The voice that sang out of chaos was unfamiliar yet strong and commanding.

Gerald spun around in confusion, wondering if Central had managed to send some reinforcements. However, whoever had issued that warning was no policeman. It came from a man standing on a boat that was fast nearing the embankment. The boat reminded him of one of those gondola things he'd seen when he'd taken the missus to Venice, except this one was white and its shaped like that of a great swan. It was…beautiful. There was no other word to describe.

The man wasn't alone. He and his company, Gerald countered at least nine, were wearing amour from medieval days except these didn't seem rusty or cumbersome. This armor gleamed and when they moved in it, it felt almost fluid. There were shields across their backs, swords hanging at the hip, long broad swords from an age more civilized than this one. They were arming bows, preparing to fire a phalanx of arrows at the enemy. The unreality of the situation made him feel light-headed, made him think that he was dreaming.

Then he remembered Kai, whose headless corpse was still bleeding all over the sidewalk where he'd died and reality returned soon enough. These things may seem improbable but they were here and they were capable of killing.

The goblin creatures, overcoming their shock, were spilling out of the shop front, spreading out across the street. They were barking at each other in a foul sounding language that Gerald couldn't identify but understood nonetheless. The language of violence was one he understood quite well. They moved like roaches, unsheathing jagged swords and arming their own bows, rushing to keep up with the new arrival's own preparations.

"GET CLEAR!" The stranger shouted at Gerald again.

By now the lorry full of civilians was speeding away from the scene. Janine doing her job to get the innocents out of the way. Gerald retreated, not about to argue the point when it was clear what was about to happen. Besides, judging by the fear he could see in the eyes of the villains, Gerald wasn't about to argue and there was more, a sense of trust in the stranger that he couldn't explain.

The stranger and his ilk looked almost luminous and as he lingered his gaze on them a moment more, something made him _want_ to trust them. It was just like the time he'd sat in church and saw the sunlight peering through the stained glass window, trust that God was in the room, _listening_.

"Do as he says!" Gerald shouted at Nicols and Resh who were in a similar state of shock as he. His shout jolted the sense back into them as they were able to deal with something tangible, a direct order from a superior.

"You sure?" Nicols looked at him, grapping with similar difficulties about what was happening in front of them but relying on his sarge's lead to act.

"No," Gerald answered honestly, retreating out of the way and ensuring that Nicols and Resh were doing the same as these two opposing forces prepared to meet in combat. If they stayed too long, they'd get caught in the middle and Gerald still wasn't sure whose side the new lot was on. A skip bin sat up against one of the walls and Gerald motioned Resh and Nicols to it, deciding that its large size would provide ample cover. Besides arrows or not, he didn't want to get caught in the crossfire.

Still on the boat, the new arrivals stood upright and tall, like the statues of ancient warriors. Their arms pulling back the strings of their bows with one hand, while the other stretched forward, bending the limbs of the bow, ready to unleash death upon the enemy. The leader, the one who had ordered Gerald to retreat stood at the head and shouted a command in a language that he did not understand but knew instinctively was old, very old.

"_Si_!"

The arrows flew through the air, a hail of them that struck the goblin creatures with such force that some were swept off their feet and brought down like the animals they were. A second volley of arrows followed, impaling more of the creatures as the boat reached the stone embankment. The archers wasted no time, leaping gracefully from the embankment onto the pathway beyond it.

This slight delay gave the goblin creatures time to react and they did so, firing arrows in return. The archer moved with speed that Gerald didn't think was human. Like dancers, they reached behind them, swung the shields above their heads and let the twisted, gnarled arrows bounce harmlessly off them to clatter to the ground.

With the distance between the two groups narrowed, the bow was forgotten and swords were drawn. The swords belonging to the archers gleamed in the sunlight and the light seemed to make their goblin like opponents flinch and recoil. Then they rushed the enemy and for the next few minutes there were screams and gurgles of pains as limbs were hacked off, bodies run through and dark blood splattering across the streets that was for once, not the blood of innocent victims. Gerald and his men simply watched, aware that with their guns, they could have helped put an end to this melee decisively but it almost like intrusion, like their weapons were the unnatural thing here.

Even when they fought, the archers were mesmerizing to watch. Their movements were fluid, their speed so quick that it didn't seem possible, and when they fought, it was almost like a dance, except that there was only death to follow their performance, not applause. Still, Gerald watched with awe, trying to understand how any of this could be.

Next to him, Resh and Nicols were similarly affected by the scene. The three men knew that they were seeing something incredible but there didn't seem to know how to articulate it.

"I think I saw this movie…" Resh remarked, not knowing what else to say.

The skirmish ended quickly with the goblins making a run for it when too many of their number had been killed and the victors gave brief chase, felling those who ran off with swift arrows to the backs, letting none of them escape. The leader of the archers swept his gaze across the empty street, wincing when he sighted Kai's body and walked over to it. He seemed to offer a silent prayer to the dead and the others dropped their head in similar respect for the fallen human. The gesture touched Gerald deeply, they hadn't known Kai, not like he, Nicols or Resh had but it was nice that they showed grief at his passing.

"You can come out now," the leader spoke out loud, draping his cloak over the dead body.

The three policemen looked at each other and it was Gerald who gave them silent instruction to remain until he decided if it was really safe or not. Emerging from behind the skip, he approached these strangers who looked like something out of a story book.

"Thank you," Gerald said softly, glancing at Kai's dead form.

"He is one of your men," the stranger asked.

"Yes," Gerald nodded, "he was a good lad." Behind him, Nicols and Resh emerged, deciding it was safe now and joined their sergeant at his side.

The stranger nodded and removed his helmet, allowing dark hair to spill around his shoulders, revealing his ears. Gerald spotted the tips immediately and noted the same feature on all the archers. "What are you people?"

Having dealt with a similar reaction from Eve once before, Elladan smiled faintly and introduced him. "I am Elladan, son of Elrond. We are elves."

"Go on…" Nicols started to declare and then looked at the men closer again, finding hard to find a credible argument after the day he'd had where he'd seen goblins, dragons and sea monsters.

While the rest of the company kept a vigil on the sky, ensuring that they were not set upon by dragons, Elladan addressed the Edain since he was the only one of them who could speak the language. He only hoped that this man, with the graying hair and the craggy face would be as open to reason as Frank and Aaron had been during their first meeting.

"Elves?" Gerald voiced his own disbelief. "_Elves_?" He repeated himself only because it sounded so bloody insane.

Once again, this was not the first time he had received such a reaction since returning to the world of men. "Is it any more difficult to believe that we are elves in light of what you have seen this day? Today you and your men have learned that the world is a far more mysterious place then you know. There are dark forces a foot my friends, dark forces that are tearing your world apart, if we are to survive this, we must work together."

Already other boats like the one he'd commanded to the shore had left the fleet and were disembarking to help the Edain combat the creatures that were turning this city in a killing ground.

"I don't fucking believe this…" Nicols retorted shaking his head.

"Shut it," Gerald snapped because he had trouble believing it too but the proof was there. The city was under siege and even if the invaders weren't conventional, he knew that something was happening. Today, he had seen sights he'd never imagined were real. People were dying and no one had any answers until now. Trying to wrap his head around it, he asked the elf (yeah the elf) named Elladan the most obvious question on his mind. He'd deal the ramifications of the answer later on.

"What were those things?" He gestured to the dead goblin like creatures on the ground.

"They are orcs," Elladan answered, his face curdling in distaste as he spoke. "They serve a master that has come to your world to rule. You have already seen his Watchers and his dragons claim the sky and the sea. He has armies of orcs and other foul creatures that intend to claim the land as well. We have come to help because this matter concerns not just the realm of the Edain but also that of my people."

"_We_?" Gerald asked, feeling lost again.

Elladan gestured to the river.

In all his life, Gerald MacInnes would never forget the day he saw the Elves return to the world of men.

An audible gasp escaped him as he saw the great, white ships of the Teleri sailing across the Thames. They were like great birds swimming…no gliding across the water. With graceful swan necks that tapered into the ship's bow, he saw the shaped wings that made up the side of the ships. It was the most breathtaking thing he'd ever seen. He thought of all the terrible things he'd seen in his life and how his garden had been his balance and now, for the rest of his days, this image would be a symbol of how beautiful the world could be.

* * *

The white ships of the Teleri sailed up the breadth of the River Thames, a flotilla that caught the eye of all who saw it. Cirdan, master of the lead ship, saw people on the river banks, watching with mouths agape as the ships of the elves passed them, staring in a mixture of wonder and awe. It was a reaction that he was accustomed to from men, even in the Third Age. He wondered if they thought they were dreaming or perhaps there was a part of them that remembered that once long ago, they shared Arda with races far older than themselves.

Whatever was in their mind, Cirdan could not say. However, when he saw their city being assailed by dragons in the air, with their great towers in flame, the foreboding scent of the innocent slain coupled with the stink of orc, just as it had been at Sennen Cove, it set a flame an unquenchable anger within the heart of the elder elf. Sauron's power was indeed strong, stronger than it had been during the War of the Last Alliance but Cirdan like Elrond was determined to put an end to him once and for all.

If this was indeed the End of Days and time was diminishing for the Eldar then they would go into Halls of Mandos with their heads held high and with the enemy destroyed once and for all.

Suddenly, the water began to froth ahead of his craft and he knew that the attack that they'd been expecting had finally come. Sauron had finally sent his minions to deal with the Eldar. He did not have to see the beast to know what it was about to assail them. Cirdan had been master of the sea for nearly the entire existence of his people. He knew the fell creature s of Morgoth, particularly the ones who had terrorized the oceans during the dark days of the First Age.

"WATCHER!" He shouted out loud to the elves on the deck. 'WARN THE FLEET!"

No sooner than he had said those words did he hear the great horn being blown and its trumpet roar bellowed warning to the rest of the fleet. Across the deck of his ship, the rest of his crew were emerging from below, armed with swords, spear and arrow, preparing for battle.

Sure enough, the battle came swiftly when tentacles exploded out of the river, slithering over the deck as the dark beast attached to them lifted itself out of the water, widening the monstrous maw of its mouth in readiness for the feeding. Cirdan did not doubt that this watcher was alone and knew the rest of the creature's kin would be spreading out to the fleet, launching similar assaults. He drew his blade, prepared to give Sauron's dark minions and even the dark lord himself, when the moment came, a fight that none would not forget.

The ship shook underneath his feet as the river became violent with the battle raging and he saw bowmen showering the watcher with barrage after barrage of arrows while others hacked at limbs trying to snatch them off the deck. As he stood behind the ship's wheel, a tentacle came at him, its thick, grey arm trying to snare him. Cirdan waste no time severing it in half and turned his eyes to the front of the boat for a more decisive attack plan.

As expected, he saw other watchers appearing out of the river, carrying out similar assaults on the fleet behind him. Cirdan hoped the rest of the his kin were as prepared for the attack and he hacked away yet another tentacle trying to entangle him, causing a spray of black blood to splattered across the deck from the severed appendage. The creature roared in pain, retracting the severed limb, trailing dark ooze as Cirdan fought his way to the bow, watching with dismay when he saw one of his elves being dragged away screaming into the water.

"USE YOUR HARPOONS!" He heard Elrond shouting to the other ships as he made his way to the front of the ship and pulled away the cover that concealed the weapon he had installed before leaving Valinor, knowing what it was they would fight when they returned to this world. He had ensured that all the remaining Teleri ships were similarly armed.

Wasting no time, Cirdan ignited the wick and stepped back as the black powder within the mechanism was ignited. He covered his ears as the loud boom roared through the air and the harpoon was sent on its way, tipped with mithril to kill not merely watcher but a dragon if it came to that. The harpoon sailed neatly through the air and struck the watcher in the dead centre of its large misshapen skull, the mithril point driving deep into its flesh. The beast howled in agony at the killing blow. Its limbs became slack and as its life drained, it began to sink, its limp tentacles dragging over the deck before being pulled into depths with it.

And for the first time today, the blood that turned the Thames dark was neither elf nor man.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**CHAPTER TWELVE: FOR QUEEN AND COUNTRY**

_As I was going to St. Ives I met a man with seven wives,_

_Each wife had seven sacks; each sack had seven cats,_

_Each cat had seven kits: kits, cats, sacks and wives,_

_How many were going to St. Ives?_

That old nursery rhyme, the literary embodiment of the trick question, played over and over again in his head as Jason Merrick drove the blue panel station wagon down the small road that was probably considered a 'motorway' in this parts. The journey had so far been uneventful, except for the disturbing number of cars making their way north as well. Jason doubted this road would have seen much traffic under normal circumstances but with the carnage taking place further south, he wasn't surprised to see more people fleeing in search of safer ground.

He'd attempted to turn on the radio but the stations that were still broadcasting and there weren't many, weren't playing music but reporting stories of destruction and panic in bursts of static. There was something about mass evacuation, some kind of threat that was moving across east towards London. Planes had been brought down, the authorities were baffled and then silence when the broadcast was suddenly disrupted. At this point, Jason decided to give up on the radio, sufficiently alarmed and pretty certain that Sam and Pip were even more fearful for their parents than ever.

Through the windscreen, he could see the rain shift from teeming to downpour as the clouds seemed to cover every inch of blue sky there was. The landscape looked grey and bleak and Jason wondered if Saeran could also have the power to alter the weather to suit his dark machinations. Driving past the small houses and the empty paddocks, still unspoiled for the moment, he wondered how soon the danger reached this point.

Jason didn't want to know and yet when he thought of the danger, he couldn't help worry about his best friend.

Though it would take Saeran's entire army to force him to admit it to the man, Jason missed the crazy Australian with whom he'd spent most of his career. They'd seen some mad times together, globe trotting across the planet, Eric writing the stories while he immortalized them on film. They'd been through wars and revolutions, famine and natural disasters but nothing like what they faced now. Armageddon was a _first_.

Jason worried that left to his own devices; Eric Rowan would land in trouble he couldn't get himself out of. The stakes was too bloody high when the consequence for bad judgment was death. Jason was so accustomed to being Eric's voice of reason, he feared what would happen if he wasn't there to remind the man of his limitations. It wasn't like before where the worse that could happen was Eric getting a dose of the clap like that time in Bangkok when he'd almost shagged that she-male. Once the idiot caught sight of tits, he never made it south of the border to check if plumbing was right.

Now Eric was going off with Miranda, Frank and the others to face down the same horror turned Sennen Cove into a bloody massacre.

Of course Jason understood the need to get the children to safety. In the last few months, he'd felt an inexplicable bond with the children of Miranda and Frank Miller. Legolas had explained that in the past, he was part of the quartet of hobbits that made up the Fellowship. It seemed so surreal to him, thinking that a hundred thousand years ago, he'd lived another life in a place called the Shire and been embroiled in world shaping events. But what was not surreal or fake was how protective he felt towards Sam, Pip and Fred.

If something was trying to harm them, there was nothing Jason Merrick wouldn't do to keep them safe.

Unfortunately, he could only keep the physical threats away from them. The emotional ones were not so easily soothed. As he drove past the houses and fields on the way to Gloucester where friends of the family would be happy to have him visit, he could hear the sniffles and the soft whispers coming from his charges in the backseat. Risking a glance over his shoulder, he wanted to make sure that they were alright just for his own peace of mind.

Sam was holding Pip who was still crying from being parted from his mother and father again. Even after all this time on Valinor, Jason knew the child had difficulty being away from his parents for any length of time. After what both Sam and Pip had gone through when they'd been captured by the Nazgul, Jason couldn't blame the child for being skittish. It was worse now and Sam, who was the bravest little boy that Jason ever knew, could do little to quell his brother's anxieties.

Facing the road again, Jason couldn't really blame Pip for being inconsolable. Even though Miranda and Frank had tried to shield them from what had been done to Sennen Cove, the destruction had been utterly confronting and it only stood to the reason that the children were astute enough to know something terrible had happened there. To say nothing about what was going on with Fred, who didn't sound like a little girl _at all_.

Children were never as dumb as grown ups thought and these children were smarter than most. Being sent away to the north of England when they knew their parents were going to face something terrible was hardly going to allay fears, more so after what they'd heard on Radio One and seen on the roads. However, there was nothing for it. There was no way they could remain. Tory was already dead, Eve captured by that bastard and Valinor was in ruins.

Where the others were headed, was no place for children.

"Don't worry you two, if there's anyone who can get through this in one piece, it's your mum and dad" he assured them, trying to sound cheery even though he suspected they could see right through him.

"You hear that Pip," Sam hugged his little brother closer to him. "Mum and dad will be fine. So will Uncle Bryan and everyone else."

Sam was actually more convincing than he had been, Jason thought and once again the New Zealander felt a surge of admiration for the boy.

Pip sniffled and pulled his head out from Sam's shoulder. "You think so?"

"I know so," Jason smiled. "Your mum is the toughest woman I've ever seen. She makes Wonder

Woman look like rubbish."

Pip managed a little laugh at that.

Jason was grateful for that much. "That's what I want to hear," he looked over his shoulder again, "now how about we get something to eat yeah?"

Neither child seemed terribly enthused but they'd been driving for a while now but Jason could feel hunger pangs himself so he had to imagine the children might be getting hungry too, even if their appetites were rendered somewhat inert by their situation.

Entering the outskirts of St Ives, he drove until he came across what appeared to be a restaurant called the Sheaf of Wheat Inn. It looked like one of those places that could only exist in the North Country and had a quaint charm to it. Pulling up to the pavement, Jason decided that it would do.

Besides, the way things were going, who knew how long things would remain normal.

* * *

"_Si!"_

Releasing the string of her bow, Ariel watched as the barrage of arrows soared into the air towards the great dragon that hovered above the ship upon which she stood. The deadly projectiles flew swift, their number so many that it was impossible to count. They came not only from the deck of her vessel but other ships in the fleet. However, not all the arrows reached their destination. The beating of the dragon's wings created strong shifts in wind that sent some arrows harmlessly into the river while others struck the its near invulnerable hide.

Still, some stayed true to its course striking the dragon in the only place it could be harmed, its underbelly.

The dragon reacted to this assault with a thunderous bellow of outrage followed by an equally devastating burst of angry red flame. Blood ran down the shafts of the arrows had protruded from its flesh and dripped upon the deck. However, the creature was by no means defeated. It was merely injured. It did not take kindly to its wounding and soared out of reach to prepare its next attack. This time, it approached ensuring that its vulnerability was no longer as exposed.

Rearming her bow, Ariel chanced a glance upwards to see how close the enemy was to reaching them. It made a sharp look in mid air before plunging towards them again and this time, she could not see its body, just the monstrous head. The beast came at them with its massive jaws agape, baring teeth that were the length of her forearm before it unleashed yet another column of fire upon them.

"Get down!" Rhuinae, one of the Noldor who stood at her side warned sharply, pulling Ariel down as the fireball passed over her head so near she could feel the heat of it moving across her back. The flame stuck the mast of the ship and set it and one of their crew ablaze. She watched in horror as the elf whose name she did not know utter a scream of agony, arms flailing as he staggered to the portside, pain driving him to move much faster than those who tried to come to his aid. He disappeared over the side so quickly that Ariel was still in shock when she heard the splash.

For an instant, she thought of her prince, reconsidering her hasty decision to leave him. Perhaps Legolas was correct. Perhaps the world was too dangerous for her to left unprotected. Maybe he was right, she wasn't ready to guard against the meaner things in the world.

The reality of her current circumstances did not allow her to ponder such thoughts too deeply for the danger was far from passed. The dragon and others like it were still in the air and the call to arms was sung across the ship once more.

"ARCHERS!" She heard and discarded thoughts of Legolas for now.

Getting to her feet, she saw the dragon taking advantage of the diversion it had created with the fire as it flew towards them for yet another assault. Lifting her bow, already armed, she joined her comrades and prepared to fend off the beast again, ignoring the smell of smoke and anxious voices of those who had been appointed to deal with the fire.

Throughout the flotilla of Teleri ships, scattered through this great river whose size reminded the elves of the Anduin, the elven host battled the watchers and the dragons that had laid siege to this city of men. Sauron had used the power of these formidable servants to gain mastery over the sea and the air by launching a lightning strike that had taken the Edain completely by surprise. It was an advantage he'd most likely have all the way to Barad-dûr. Thus the threat of them had to be dealt with now or at least curtailed long enough for the armies of men to regroup.

Amidst the chaos, a sudden bang was heard. The sounds came upon them so swiftly and loudly that some of them jumped in fright. Then they saw something flying through the air, a trail of thin white smoke following the odd, cylindrical shaped object. It struck the dragon in the face and the exploded. The dragon reared its long neck in surprise, distracted by this new assailant and halted in mid air, its belly exposed once again.

Not about to waste the opportunity, a hasty order to fire was given and another deadly barrage of arrows was unleashed upon the creature. Blood ran more freely from its wounds and it screeched in anger before retreating, leaving its winged brethren to do battle with the other ships as it went away to nurse its injuries.

As it departed, Ariel saw Elrond hurry to the starboard side of the ship. Following his gaze, she realised that he was staring at a ship that had come along side of their own. This was not a vessel of the Teleri and clearly constructed by man. It was noisy, had no sails, stunk of noxious fumes and made entirely of metal. It lacked the refinement or grace of seafaring vessel. The men on board appeared to be wrestling with a length of thick, grey rope, aiming the end of it at the elven ship.

Suddenly, the odd rope stiffened as if the thing had come alive in their hands and released a powerful rush of water. The frothy jet bridged the gulf between the two vessels, dousing the burning mast with powerful streams to battle the fire that was raging out of control. The flames struggled to prevail against the torrents but soon the water claimed victory with the remains of the soggy, blackened sail that was ruined beyond all repair, left in its wake.

It was an odd day for Captain Thaddeus Snow who commanded the Duke Class frigate, HMS Northumberland. It had started well enough when he and his ship spending their leave at Portsmouth where the ship had docked to take on new personnel and supplies. He anticipated returning to their duties in a number of days when he was summoned immediately to London of all places. The summons had seemed like nonsense and the panicked operator had claim that London was under siege, which sounded like more nonsense.

However, it soon became apparent that something was a foot. Refugees were pouring down from the north, fleeing to safer ground relating stories about flying dragons, giant spiders and an army of monsters that were slaughtering everything in sight. Then came the radio blackouts and the intermittent transmissions that further alleged that whatever it was that attacking them, had managed to take out an entire squadron of RAF fighters and the army deployed to fight them on London Bridge was similarly wiped out.

At that point, Thaddeus decided that he'd work out later whether this was the result of mass hysteria or a genuine threat to his homeland and set sail from Portsmouth at best speed, bound for London. Upon reaching the mouth of the Thames, there was no denying _something_ was wrong. Smoke was rising from London, the likes of which he'd never seen before. He'd seen footage of London during the Blitz and the stark similarities made his stomach churn in outrage. His mother used to tell him of how it had been in those days and the idea that London was enduring another such ordeal stabbed at his oath to defend Queen and country.

Wasting no time, he and his crew eagerly sailed down the Thames to source out the cause of all this destruction. It was true no one knew what to expect after listening to all the outlandish claims made by terrified civilians but he was a soldier and a soldier's duty was to protect his homeland.

However, what had staked a claim upon the Thames was beyond his understanding.

Every sailor heard the stories about sea monsters; such tales were as old as the sea herself. While Thaddeus knew of such stories, the discipline of the Royal Navy had precluded him for believing in them. He was a military man all his life and like any good soldier, made the appropriate sacrifices. He was accustomed to seeing all manner of things in his travels across the world and knew the ocean was indeed a lady who never gave up all secrets. He respected her as one respects any beloved mistress.

At least until he saw the tentacle thing that was snatching fleeing civilians from the embankments of the Thames and dragging them beneath the river screaming, until their blood created dark pools in the river before vanishing.

After that, what Thaddeus was inclined to believe was a little less demanding.

They'd prepared to fire on the things, harpoon the blighters, reduced them to cinders with the anti-aircraft missiles mounted on the deck of his ship when they'd seen the dragons in the air and the creatures looked like nothing St. George might have battled. These things were the bloody size of jet planes and moved almost as fast. When they roared, they created plumes of fires, crisscrossing each other in the sky. Fortunately, their attention seemed fixed on something further up river and Thaddeus decided that it was something that ought to be investigated. It could be civilians needing help, the army mounting a defence…anything.

At their fastest speed, they travelled up the Thames, attempting to reach the eye of the storm when they came upon a fleet. It was a fleet like none he'd ever seen before in his life. The memory of its first sighting would follow him into his dreams and probably into death. It was a fleet that made his breath catch in his throat, whose beauty transcended words and reached into of every true son of the sea, bringing tears of wonder and delight to their eyes.

It was beautiful, like something drawn in a painting had sailed right off the canvas into the real world.

It didn't take them long to realize that the crew of these ships were battling the dragons and the creatures in the water. Thaddeus came to the conclusion that if these men were fighting the creatures, then they might know where it was these monstrosities had originated and possibly, how to kill them. Certainly a good deal more effectively then their own lads had tried, if the disjointed reports he'd been hearing through the wireless had been any indication at how the British Army's confrontation with this enemy had ended.

If these people were fighting to stop these creatures than as Thaddeus saw it, they were allies, at least until he knew otherwise.

* * *

Elrond recognised the man immediately.

As he stood facing the commander of the vessel that had joined the battle and come to their aid, he was able to see clearly the mortal's features Eru continued to play his tricks upon them all, Elrond thought and a little smile tugged at the corner of his lips, filling him with a sense of comfort that even in these desperate circumstances Eru was guiding them, sending them allies in the most unlikeliest places.

Just as Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth had found them on Valinor, now another son from the Third Age had wandered into this tale. The End of Days, it seemed, was giving opportunity to warriors new and old for one last battle before the world was changed forever. This warrior, Elrond knew as he stood on the deck of his ship, holding the elf lord's gaze across the space between ships, wearing a uniform of dark colours and sporting a white trimmed beard.

In the Third Age, this had been Theoden, son of Thengel, who had fallen at the Pelennor Fields, the king of the Riddermark.

Elrond desired to thank Theoden's reincarnation for the assistance in dousing the flames that had all but consumed the masts of his ship but there was little time to trade such courtesies when the danger was far from over. The gaze of both man and elf darted to the sky in concert as they saw yet another dragon break away from the group to descend sharply towards them. Instead of thanks, it became more expedient to trade warnings. As formidable as the weapons of men were, there were no match for the dragons of Morgoth, who had no vulnerability save one.

"Aim for their belly!" Elrond shouted in perfect English, having learnt enough of the language from Eve during her time on Valinor. "They cannot be harmed anywhere else!"

The man stared back at him in disbelief at first, appearing as if he might protect but then reason prevailed, largely because, Elrond suspected, the unreality of the situation demanded belief in the previously unthinkable.

"We can distract them!" The captain shouted back, having caught on quickly that their previous tactic had worked to their advantage, unplanned as it was.

Elrond agreed. The weapon used earlier was a blunt instrument, all noise and thunder. The elves were capable of delivering the sharpened blow that would end the beast. Together, they might succeed. "Archers!" He called out to the elves on the deck. "Prepare your bows. Do not shoot until I give the word!"

There were choruses of affirmations and once again the elves rearmed their weapons, lifting the arrows to the air, in the direction of the beast sweeping down at them. This time however, the dragon had learned enough from earlier experience to not expose its underbelly. In the First Age, the dragons' fascination with precious stones was so that they could encrust their bellies with jewels to protect themselves from harm. These creatures had no opportunity to make any such modifications during their stay in the Forbidden Vault and yet even without the protection, they were still a force to be reckoned with.

On board the Northumberland, Thaddeus issued similar directives to his crew to discharge a volley of anti-aircraft missiles at the creature, having noted that the earlier shots had distracted it long enough to be wounded.

"FIRE!" He gave the order and the missiles escaped the launch platform with overlapping booms that soon became the rumble of its rocket propelled mechanism soaring through the air. The distance to its target was short and Thaddeus still held up hope that the captain of the other ship was wrong, that no living thing could stand up to the barrage of artillery he had sent its way. However, when they impacted, the explosion caused the creature's flight trajectory to shift drastically. It had been approaching in a dive but the missiles had made it pull up, its pale reptilian underbelly showing.

However, it was unhurt.

Four stinger missiles and the blasted thing did not have a _scratch_ on it.

"_SI!"_ The order came from the other boat and the phalanx of arrows shot through the air, taking a similar path as the missiles. The creature, still disorientated by the exploding artillery, did not see the new assault. The arrows struck home, so many that it was hard to keep count, but each one riddled that pale flesh, weeping blood from dozens of wounds all at once. The dragon bellowed in pain and fury, expelling bursts of smoke and fire as it screamed its outrage and indignation.

"It's working!" Barrows, his first mate declared. "I don't believe it! It's working! Those arrows are bloody hurting it! How the bleeding hell is that possible?"

"I don't know," Thaddeus said shaking his head, "but if those men know how to kill those damn things, then we take their advice until we know better."

* * *

On board the USS Connecticut, Captain Isaiah Hill was finding little patience in being unable to continue any further because ballistic missile submarines did not go cruising up major waterway of friendly nations without first alerting someone to that fact.

Wars started that way or at the least _dishonourable discharges_.

His boat in holding position at the mouth of the Thames because there was no way for the boat to continued. The maximum depth of the Thames was about 36 feet. The beam of the Connecticut was 40. Allowing the Teleri fleet to continue towards the city, Isaiah instead languished in his control room, attempting to contact Norfolk Naval Operations to let them know that London and Europe was about to be held siege by a dark lord from an age of elves, dragons and magic.

Yeah, he didn't hold out much hope for keeping his command either.

Miraculously, Norfolk and by extension, NATO was aware that _something_ was happening, although they weren't totally prepare to commit to what that something was yet even though all evidence pointed to the obvious. Isaiah watched the news footage from the destruction in London and much of this corresponded with what he was being told by his superiors.

They'd received the reports that several Saab Gripens working with the RAF F3s had been downed at Cornwell before something disrupted their communications and kept any further information from reaching them. In an effort to gain intelligence, the Brits had dispatched their Devonshire light infantry into the area who had not been heard from since. By now, they were presumed dead.

Following that, civilians fled north and south in panic, revealing tales that frankly defied belief. Their assailants were claimed to be monsters, giant spiders and dragons. By the time this nameless terror reached London, the communications disruption that had kept the authorities and the country in the dark was lifted. The world saw what was happening to the city as graphic images of London burning because actual fire breathing dragons were razing the city to the ground, dragons that were impervious to all harm. The F3s that had sent against them were soon nothing but flaming wreckage scattered across the city.

London Bridge lay in ruins, parts of it now resting at the bottom of the Thames. Sea creatures had claimed the waters, snatching civilians and dragging them into the depths. A battle had been fought at Southwark with British forces the loser and now the communications blackout had resumed and no one knew what was happening in the city whose pyre could be seen throughout the country.

None of this surprised Isaiah or his crew who had been forced to live with the fantastic for longer than most. The army that Elrond and Cirdan warned of was unleashed upon the world of men and God only knew where it would stop. From inside the control room, he and his men viewed the destruction with muted horror, the new cameras showing the massacre in grisly detail. People were running, screaming in all directions. Shots of the dragons circling the sky made everyone shudder and what they'd seen in Valinor, was playing out here all over again.

"Jesus," Purcelli whispered as he stood in the control room with Hennessy and the others, watching the images playing out on the screen. "It's fucking unreal."

"Real enough," Isaiah frowned turning away from the screen unable to watch any more. "Turn it off," he barked a second later. Watching it was only demoralizing the crew and they had enough trouble without that.

Suddenly, the boat's sonar screamed alert with a loud ping that echoed throughout the ship, making everyone in the control centre jump.

"What it is?" Isaiah demanded.

Harris was already at work, staring at the digitized screen, his hands moving up and down the panel of his workstation, trying to calibrate the instruments to produce a more refined answer. "Working on it sir…" the young officer retorted, eyes shifting back and forth from screen to instruments before answering, "we've got multiple bogeys coming straight at us."

Both Isaiah and Purcelli crossed the deck in a matter of seconds and were leaning over Harris' shoulder to see what was going on. As stated, the sonar screen showed multiple signals on intercept for them. There were at least fifteen blips moving into sonar range. Were the things headed for open water or them?

"Don't fire until we know they're coming after us," Isaiah declared.

"Captain?" Purcelli stared at him in question.

"I'm not setting off a tomahawk missile in the Thames River unless I know that the boat is in imminent danger. Right now, I don't think that's the case. I think they're leaving, they're making for the sea and we're in the way."

"Captain…" Purcelli opened his mouth to protest but closed it before he could voice what was on his mind.

Not that Isaiah needed hear the words to know what Purcelli was thinking. It was a _big_ assumption. However, Isaiah was convinced he was right. The creatures were clearly under direction of this Sauron character the elves were so afraid of and if this was about strategy, then there was nothing served by leaving the Thames and attacking one ship in such great numbers. No, the damn things were leaving, which meant it probably made sense to know where they were going….

"Wait," he said suddenly, a new idea coming to his head. "Belay that torpedo order. Full reverse." He hurried to the central display of the command centre and studied the map of the area. They were presently at the coast of Canvey Island holding position. "Take us around the point of Canvey and then go silent." He ordered after a minute. "Let the biologics pass us." Meeting Purcelli's gaze, he added, "I want to know where they're going."

"Aye Sir," Purcelli nodded, understanding better and knowing how to proceed. "All hands," he spoke into speaker. "We are going silent running. Repeat, we are going silent running." Shutting off the speaker he regarded his captain, "looks like we're hunting the big game."

Considering what they could see approaching them, Isaiah tended to agree. "They don't get much bigger than this."

* * *

London was burning and all was well.

Saeran stood at the courtyard of the Bell Tower once again, breathing in the intoxicating aroma of smoke and blood, thrilling to the cries he could still hear riding on the wind. In the distance, he could see the battle with his dragons and the elves, knowing that the while the great beasts may be wounded, their pains served a greater purpose. The dragons were keeping both elf and man busy while he had directed his army away from the city.

Astride Gnash, the winged creature's wings flapped like the beats of a dark heart as it brought Morgul to his master. His Nazgul could have swooped into the battle and ended the conflict with the elves with far more efficiency than the dragons but at the present, Saeran had need of their attentions elsewhere and it was an expenditure of time worth the price of a few wounds that would heal soon enough.

Morgul dismounted his mount and approached Saeran, head bowed. "All is prepared," he spoke. "The army is bound for Dover."

"Good," Saeran nodded. "Let them cross into Calais. The Uruks have emerged from their byre?"

"Yes," Morgul nodded, "I have sent Khamul and Dwaw to command them. They will ensure everything is ready for your arrival."

Saeran allowed himself a smile. "All our agents have awakened," he said as a matter of factly. With his new found power, he could feel them all. Not just the ones he had freed from the Forbidden Vaults but the ones who had been hiding for so many years. His rally of war had reached across the world, to the places where ancient beasts had hidden themselves in waiting, asleep in the bowels of the earth for the right master to draw them into the light again.

"Yes," Morgoth nodded, feeling the same connection in the shadow realm. Morgoth's creatures who had dug deep to avoid obliteration by the Valar at the end of the First Age, who had never answered to Sauron in the Third, now recognized their creator's power in his most trusted lieutenant. They would come because now Sauron had earned their loyalty. "The drakes are awakening in the north and even now they are breaking through the ice."

"Stay close to orcs and the trolls until we can update their weaponry," Saeran instructed. "Men still cannot withstand the power of your Black Breath and we must use to that cripple them. We will push them to the edge of desperation Morgul, until they have no recourse but to use their weapons of mass destruction. Let them burn this planet to a cinder and exterminate their race and the elves for all time. We will be there to pick up the pieces."

* * *

When it was all said and done, the irony of the situation would not be lost on those left behind. In the effort to send the children north to safety, they had only brought them closer to the enemy in London. Of course, by then such hindsight was too late and only the tragedy remained.

Jason had stopped at the small pub in St Ives, where he'd ensured they had a nice meal in the restaurant area even though on first glance, the place did not immediately recommend itself as an establishment for fine dining. Nevertheless, children had an indiscriminate palette and so long as fish and chips were on the menu, Jason was able to feed them _something_. Unfortunately, what appetite they were able to manage was soon swept away when the locals began gathering around the television, watching the broadcasts of what was transpiring in London.

Jason learnt that there had been 'trouble with the telly' all morning and even the wireless seemed to spitting out information in stops and starts. However, the resumption of programming gave no comfort to those watching. Scenes of death, carnage and violence was played out for the whole of England, perhaps even the world to see as what happened to Tirion in Valinor was now being repeated in the street of London.

The reaction ran the gamut from disbelief to terror and finally the only sensible thing for Jason to do, is to urge the kids to try and finish their meals before ushering them out of the place. The two children were terrified enough about losing their parents without being exposed to the rising fear of the residents as well. It wasn't as if Sam and Pip hadn't seen what had happened in Tirion; they had. To know that the destruction had chased them back to England could not be helping.

Besides, Jason wanted to get them to the safety of his family friends in Gloucester so that he could head back to find his best friend, to fight alongside Eric if possible and if necessary, die with him. Jason was blind to that outcome becoming a reality. He had never been a soldier but he knew there were causes worth dying for; that people were worth saving specially now that there were elves in this world and there was magic in the future.

Leaving St Ives, they travelled along the coast on roads that were considered little more that trails really. The cell phone they'd picked up when they landed in England again was barely picking up a signal though Jason didn't know if this was due to the same disturbance that was affecting radio and television broadcasts or because they were in an area with poor service. He considered calling Miranda and Frank to let them talk to Sam and Pip to cheer the little ones but abandoned the idea. He didn't want to disappoint the children if they were confronted with poor reception and couldn't get through.

They'd been on the road for almost two hours after leaving St Ives, their progress slower because they were avoiding the motorways, although the frequency of cars had not abated. What was going on in the south was certainly affecting people even here. Nearing Crow, the North Atlantic and Warren Bay flanked them, revealing a stretch of uninspiring beach that disappeared into a rocky shore followed by jagged cliffs that seemed bleak as they were grim. Looking at this vista, Jason could well believe that this was the country where Bronte had written her gothic novels.

With the ocean on one side, the hilly forested terrain of Kings Head Coppice on the other, the sun had reached its zenith in the sky and was setting, dragging shadows of late afternoon behind him. Jason wasn't even sure what he was seeing until seconds before the attack came. What emerged through the trees had done so with such speed there wasn't even time to swerve, just shout at Sam and Pip to hold on a split second before impact.

The last thing that Jason remembered thinking before everything became chaos was; _it's a wolf_.

The beast that easily dwarfed the modest hatchback they were driving, slammed against the side of the car with such force that vehicle skidded sideways across the road before flipping over the shoulder and tumbling down the small incline to the beach. It came to a shuddering halt when its bulk reached sand and sunk into the grainy surface.

It took a few seconds for Jason to recover and when he did, he couldn't shake the disorientation completely. He had trouble breathing and when he coughed, pain lanced through his chest like a hot knife and blood passed his lips, running rivulets down the corner of his mouth. The pain was radiating outward from beneath the muscle and when he tried to move his arm, there was difficulty flexing his fingers without more pain. He was badly hurt and he knew it but he couldn't even think about that when he remembered Sam and Pippin.

Brushing broken fragments of windscreen of his shirt, he turned over and uttered a small groan as the pain stabbed at him. Sam and Pip were strapped in and looked as dazed as he had a moment ago. However, he saw no serious injuries on them other than a nasty gash on Sam's cheek from the shattered side window and Pippin was whimpering in fear. Jason let out a silent prayer of thanks that neither child was more affected than that though the trauma of the collision couldn't be easy to cope with either.

The collision…

Jason shot a glance up the hill to see the wolf standing there, surveying the scene. He sucked in a breath, feeling a surge of fear running through him. The thing was as big as bloody house, he thought and even though he knew it was a wolf, he knew that this was one of Saeran's monsters. Not the one that Ariel had shot dead on Anemone but something worse and instinctively, he knew that it was here for Sam and Pip. As he saw those yellow eyes narrowing its gaze as it fixed on them, something in Jason snapped and he started out of the car, ignoring the pain, ignoring the gush of blood that surged up his lungs and threatened to choke him, rushing out to act before the creature came down and slaughtered them all.

Kicking the door open, he stumbled out of the driver's side as it started to climb down the hill. Another grunt of pain escaped him when he tried to stand but ignoring it, he hobbled over to the trunk which gratefully opened without any trouble because the wolf almost upon him. Bryan had insisted that he carry a decent cache of weapons when they'd left and at the time Jason thought he might have been overreacting, however in retrospect, he guessed the former MI6 knew what he was talking about. Just because they were heading away from danger didn't meant danger wouldn't stay away.

_Now you get it Jace_, a voice that sounded not unlike Eric, snorted inside his head.

Grabbing the first weapon he saw, a Sterling submachine gun they'd taken from the destroyed police station in Sennen Cove, Jason cocked the weapon and turned the barrel on the wolf.

At the sight of the weapon, it halted its purposeful advance and instead seemed to stroll leisurely towards Jason, as if it was unconcerned by the threat of the human in front of it. Jaw agape, dripping with saliva, Jason never thought it possible that any animal could look evil. Animals acted in accordance with their nature; there was any malice in it but this thing…this thing looked like it could be the devil himself. Worse than that, it looked as if it was considering how to attack.

The wolf paused a few feet away from Jason who though puzzled by the action, was not about to waste the opportunity and tightened his finger around the trigger, preparing to fire when suddenly, the wolf lifted its head and _spoke_.

"Give me the children of the Shield Bitch and you may live…"

The barrel dropped slightly in Jason's hand out of sheer shock.

It was talking. The wolf was _talking_! He could hear words coming out from it, clear as day. Its voice was unearthly, half way between a growl and the tremor of the heaving earth, unnatural, but nevertheless a voice.

"You are sack of flesh full of broken bones. I can smell your blood leaking into your ruined organs." The wolf sneered. "How long do you think you can protect them? Shall we wait here until you bleed the death and I take them anyway."

"SHUT UP!" Jason shouted. "Come one step closer and I'll blow your fucking head off. I don't give a fuck if you can talk or not!" What the creature said had struck home far more deeply than Jason would have liked. He knew he was in bad shape and the fucking beast was right. It only had to wait him out.

Jason saw something move in the corner of his eyes and a sidelong glance told him that on the top of the hill, Jason knew that the wolf wasn't alone. There were smaller versions of it waiting, watching the outcome of this brief détente between him and their leader.

"Do not be foolish," Draugluin hissed. "I am the greatest of the werewolves. I went to my first death by a hero of the First Age, now returned to serve my master's most power lieutenant. He desires the children of his enemy, brought to him unharmed. What chance do you think you have against me? If you leave them, you may go. My master gave no instructions for you. Step aside and survive in what time is left to you and your world."

"I said shut up!" Jason shouted and pulled the trigger intending to provide a warning for the animal to scatter. He reasoned that these creatures from the past had no idea about guns and bullets. Hopefully the noise would frighten them away, keep this from becoming a fight.

The explosion of sound felt like reality had been ripped violently in half and it echoed throughout the beach, causing the wolves on the top of the hill to retreat out of sight. However, their pack master remained where it was, unimpressed and even more sinister if such a thing was possible. It seemed that this wolf was not so easily frightened and stared at Jason with yellow eyes, daring him to do his worst.

* * *

Inside the dented car, the sound of gunfire shook Sam out of his disorientation. He looked through the broken glass of the back windscreen, to peer at the sight of Uncle Jason facing off the biggest wolf the boy had ever seen. _It was like a giant_, Sam thought before he turned to Pip, remembering that it was his job to take care of his little brother. Pip was crying and the sound made Sam's heart clench in his chest. It was too much like when those terrible Ringwraiths had stolen them from mum and dad. Sam had sworn then that he never wanted to hear his brother cry like that again but now here they were, in similarly dire circumstances.

"Pip," he whispered urgently, trying not to draw the attention of the monsters outside of the car. "Pip you have to stop crying. We need to get out of here." He explained.

Pippin Miller was still trapped to his child seat and was terribly frightened. He wanted mum because mum knew how to keep him safe but she wasn't here and neither was dad. In their absence, Sam was the next best thing and his brother's insistent voice made him bring his tears to a stuttering end. "What…what…happened?" He asked.

"We were in an accident," Sam said sighing with relief, reaching over to undo the straps of the seat. He had often helped Pippin out of his seat in it in the past to help mum when she was busy taking the shopping into the house. "Come on, we've got to go. Can you move?"

Pippin tried experimentally to flex his foot one after the other and nodded. "Uh huh."

"Good," Sam smiled at his brother, hiding his own fears as he took Pippin's and tried to climb out of the vehicle without notice. "I want you to just look at me Pip," he instructed his brother. "Don't look at anything else, just me, just keep your eyes on my back, okay?"

"Why?" Pippin asked, starting to become agitated, his eyes wanting to look away from his brother.

"Because I said," Sam repeated himself. Pippin was very small and afraid. If he saw what Uncle Jason was facing, it would be too much for him. "Please?"

Pipping nodded, swallowing and obeyed his brother as they started to move out of the car.

* * *

"One more step and it won't be a warning shot, do you hear me?" Jason warned, raising the gun barrel once more, this time ready to kill the thing if it didn't move off. As it was, he didn't know why he didn't already start shooting. Because you don't know if you can hold out if it comes down to a fight. His head was starting to pound and he felt weaker. The sound of the others growling on the hill became muted and he wondered if they were reacting to the scent of the kids. He needed time, time for them to get away from this creature that was undoubtedly here on that fucking ring wraith's orders.

_Figures the bastard would come for Miranda's children._

"I can smell your fear human," Draugluin continued to goad. "It makes the flesh so much saltier, tasty. I will enjoy tearing the skin from your bones after you are dead…"

This time, there was no warning shot. Jason fired, cutting off anything else it had to The bullets tore through the creature's flank as it raised its massive head and uttered a roar of pain, a sound so terrible it almost felt like the thunder eclipsing the roar of the ocean as it crashed on the rocks not far away. It growled outraged at Jason before retreating up the embankment, disappearing behind the hill. Its departure should have made Jason grateful but he wasn't. He didn't know why the creature had run away but he knew he hadn't hurt it enough to chase it off. It would be back and _soon_.

With little time to waste, he limped back to the car to see Sam and Pip emerging from the vehicle. While bloody and bruised, they were walking and Jason was grateful for that. They were in better shape than he was.

"Jason!" Sam cried out. "Where are the monsters?"

"Nevermind that," he said reaching into the driver's seat and searching for the cell phone that had been on the dashboard when the car had been run off the road, stopping to glance over his shoulder to see if the thing had come back. He found it lodged under his car seat and grabbed it. Turning back to Sam, he pressed the device in the little boy's hand. "I need you to take this and run, head for those rocks over there." He gestured to the rocks around which the tide was swirling around. "You'll get a bit wet but the water will confuse their scent okay?"

"But…but...what about you?" Pip started to stutter.

"I'll be right behind you," he said dismissively and saw Sam staring at him hard. The boy knew he was _lying_.

"You have to go now," Jason ordered as he heard the growls return and this time, there wasn't just one, it was all of them. The bastard was coming back in force. "Go!" He barked, "before they come back!"

"Uncle Jason," Pip hugged him around the waist and just that embrace nearly made Jason spew more blood. "Don't leave us alone. "The child begged and hearing it was a knife in his heart but he knew the score. He'd sworn to Miranda they'd be safe and if it was the last thing he did, he'd keep that promise.

"Sam..." Jason started to pull away, agonised by that plea but ignoring it because this was the only way. "You need to take Pip and go _now_."

Sam nodded, saying little but understanding all too well what was being asked of him. He took Pip by the hand, slipping the cell phone in his jacket before they started running towards the rocks at the shore. Jason watched them go, praying he had made the right decision. There was no help that could get here in time and he knew, he was no longer in any shape to protect them. Besides, it was more than just his promise to Miranda and Frank, there was something deep inside of him that couldn't let them be hurt, even though he was shit scared and was starting to understand that he might not survive the next hour.

Legolas would say it had to do with being a part of the Fellowship and maybe it was but one thing Jason did know for certain; he couldn't keep up with Sam and Pippin, not in the shape he was in. He'd slow them down and get them killed.

For them to survive, he needed to even the odds a little.

Hurrying back to the trunk of the car, he grabbed another magazine of bullets before spotting something else amongst the weapons that Bryan had left him. He stared at it for a second, a plan solidifying in his head. Considering the outcome, Jason found that it was oddly liberating. He glanced again at the children running for dear life towards the rocky shore and knew that he had to give them their escape. Taking a deep breath, he strengthened his resolve and chased away the terror that was lurking in the back of his mind, threatening to take charge of him.

The beast reappeared and ended any further debate. Jason grabbed what he needed and climbed back into the vehicle, using it as armour for as long as he could. This time there was no waiting. He unleashed deadly barrage of gunfire on the wolves as they came down the hill.

Only when they charged at him, did Jason realise why the big bastard had retreated. It sent its smaller companions ahead, allowing them to take the brunt of the barrage. Jason watched them tumble down the incline as the bullets ripped into them. They let out yelps of pain as their legs buckled beneath them and they rolled down the hill in balls of sand and fur. Their bodies landing with an ugly squelch of bone when they reached the bottom.

The leader, the one who claimed to be father of all werewolves had smartly sacrificed the others like pawns in a chess game, barrelling over the bodies of its fallen comrades, seemingly oblivious to their passing. Its jaws widened in anticipation of the kill and the wolves that _did_ make it to the beach started to veer away from Jason and the car. He didn't let them get any further than that, cutting them down just as savagely as the others, refusing to leave any of them alive so they could go after Sam and Pip.

Jason was wasting his bullets and he knew it but Jason was no marksman, he was a blunt instrument at best and right now, he was hoping to take out as many of the damn things as he could to give Sam and Pipping the best chance of survival.

The rest of the pack had fallen to the wall of bullets but Draugluin was known for his craftiness and he allowed the others to lead the charge because they were most useful as fodder. By the time, Draugluin came upon the metal shell in which the human had chosen to hide, his brothers were dead but it did not matter. The great wolf leapt atop the vehicle, his meaty paws leaving dents in the already crushed car. He ripped the top of the car away like it was nothing, flinging the cover to the side, like a child discarding a toy he no longer wished to play with.

Jason looked up and saw the wolf peel the top of the car away it was paper and knew that there was no escape. He was dead anyway. He could feel it inside. It was becoming harder to breathe and the pain in his chest had become this heaviness he knew to be his lungs filling with blood. He'd lasted as long as he could and at least the other wolves had gone. All he had left to do was deal with was this monster.

The Sterling had a few shells left but not nearly enough to take out a behemoth like the creature poised to lunge above him. The massive creature was staring at him with menacing glee apparent in its yellow eyes. Spittle from its open jaws fell against his skin and the heat of its breath made the hair on his head sway a little. He could smell the wolf's fetid breath and was certain he smelled rancid human flesh on its enormous teeth.

"You could have walked free human," Draugluin sneered, unable to resist a last opportunity to gloat, "it mattered little to me whether you lived or not but you dared to slay my brothers. For that I will make you beg me for your death when I peel your skin off your flesh like a ripe fruit. You would have died anyway but now I shall make sure you die in _agony_."

Jason swallowed thickly, ignoring the taunts meant to frighten him because his fingers were moving furtively out of sight as he pulled the pin on the hand grenade attached to belt that carried a half dozen more like it. Bryan knew he wasn't a soldier that giving him sophisticated weapons that required expertise was pointless. No, the former spy had given him weapons that were easy to use, with maximum efficiency. Jason wished he could have thanked the man for that.

Looking up at the beast, he thought he might see his life flash by his eyes in some dramatic fashion but there was nothing of the sort, just this feeling of sadness knowing that there would be no tomorrows, no way to say goodbye to those who mattered.

_See you in the next life, you dumb Aussie, _Jason thought to himself as he saw the wolf lunge and spat out words he knew would have made Eric Rowan proud.

"I hope you fucking choke on me."

* * *

The explosion that erupted a second after Jason uttered his final words was so large that it tore the car and everything in it apart. A large fireball followed, engulfing what remained in a conflagration so fierce that it rose up in the sky like a phoenix taking flight, for all to see. It was a fitting pyre for Jason Merrick, once known to all as the hobbit Merry in the company of the Fellowship, who now went into legend with the great hero Beren as a slayer of Draugluin, the sire of all werewolves.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: IN THE COMPANY OF WOLVES**

Within the SUV driving towards London, Fred uttered a choked sob.

She was lodged in the space between Legolas and Lori on the back seat now that Miranda, Frank and Eric vacated at her earlier warning to go in search of Sam, Pip and Jason, when her eyes widened in surprise and that small gasp escaped her. Although she was not alone in her body, this reaction was entirely hers and though the presence within tried to soften the blow, Fred was still a little girl. With that sudden start, she buried her face in Legolas' side, since Bryan was in the front seat, crying harder.

"Fred?" Legolas exclaimed at the outburst, his words drawing the attention of all to the child as she started to cry harder, forcing him to coil his arms around her tighter, offering him the comforting adult presence she needed.

"What's wrong with her?" Lori asked, unfamiliar with the child's situation at present.

"What's happened Fred?" Bryan spoke up and the girl was too conditioned to his voice to be able to ignore him, even if she was in state of distress.

Even now, Bryan had no power against the sounds of those tears. Despite being in the driver's seat, he was adept enough to let his attention waver from the road to regard the child who had somehow become the most important thing in the world to him since her arrival in his life almost a year ago. Hearing her cry like that was a knife in his heart and the last time he had heard her weep in such a way was when they'd lost Tory. The similarities of those tears to this occasion filled Bryan with dread.

Like the others in the car, Aaron too snapped out of the dark place he'd been seen hearing of Lori's report about Eve. So lost in his own fears for his wife, he hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary until Bryan spoken and then felt a little guilty at being so oblivious. Leaning over the front seat, he regarded the little girl whose small body shook as she wept into the elf's side. Exchanging a glance with Legolas and Bryan, Aaron could see that they too, were expecting the worse.

"Can someone please tell me what's wrong with her?" Lori demanded again, feeling like she was the only one being left in the dark. As it was, she was having a great deal of difficulty believing what any of them had said. Elves, monsters from ages past, dragons and the end of the world, it was too much for her very rational mind to deal with. The story these people had told her was frankly too fantastic to be believed even i she knew what had downed her plane wasn't another enemy bogey.

It _was_ a dragon and now there was this.

Legolas stilled them all with a gesture, deciding that bombarding the poor child with questions would aid no one. He too was filled with a sense of ominous foreboding because this reaction could only have source in some calamity that they were as of yet unaware. However, Fred was still a child and though she was occupied by some other force, she reacted to tragedy in the manner of a child and a little patience would draw the ill news from Fred when she was ready to speak.

Bryan wanted to stop the car, wanted to take Fred in his arms and console her himself but through the windscreen he could see the smoke rising out of London and knew that they didn't have time for that. So he played the role he'd always played, the good soldier who did his duty, even when he didn't like it, for queen and country. He pushed on when the others were ready to falter, even though he had lost and knew that the price for defeating Saeran this time was going to despairingly high.

After a moment, Fred finally lifted her face away from Legolas, drying her tears as she regarded the others. She had been allowed to express her grief in a child's way and now the other occupant of her tiny body was exerting control and regaining its composure to deliver news that none in this vehicle wished to hear. Her blue eyes touched the faces staring at her in anticipation and saw that Aaron, Bryan and Legolas were expecting the worst while the woman Lori, didn't know what to expect at all.

"Jason is gone," she revealed finally.

It was Aaron who reacted first. "Gone, what do you mean gone?" He demanded indignantly though it was rather obvious to all what exactly Fred meant.

"She means _dead_ Aaron," Bryan answered softly and kept his eyes fixed on the road again, his eyes not moving from it.

He thought of Jason and how only a few days ago, he, Eric, Elladan and Jason were mucking about in his kitchen, trying to make beer before Tory got home, laughing and believing the worst the world had to offer was elven spirits. How wrong he had been. They'd not lost both Tory and Jason now. He wondered how many others they'd lose before this was all over.

"Jason?" Lori looked at the men in the car, "the guy who had mom and pop's kids?"

Legolas answered with a sombre nod.

"Jesus," Aaron whispered. First Tory and now Jason, how high was this death toll going to go? He kept that thought silent though because the group was demoralized enough by this latest tragedy and in a more composed tone, he asked after Sam and Pippin. "What about the kids?" He hated to think that Miranda and Frank's children had ended the same way as the Kiwi camera man who'd been a friend since his arrival in Valinor.

"They still live and remain unharmed for now," Fred answered, her voice a cheerless drone. "Jason sacrificed his life to save them. He succeeded," she added. "Frank and Miranda will reach them soon."

Fred knew in what manner Jason had died but there was no need to trouble this group with such details. That he was dead was painful enough for them to accept, let alone be told that he had met his death at the hands of one of Melkor's servants.

Legolas considered Jason's sacrifice and remembered how Boromir had fallen at Parth Galen when he fought the Uruk Hai trying to save Merry and Pippin. More and more, he was starting to believe the End of Days would bring with it the end of everything they knew. With each turn, they seemed to be coming full circle, the threads of past and present interweaving into the tapestry Eru had been crafting since the begining of all things.

Lori kept quiet. She was caught in events larger than herself and though her natural inclination was to balk at the strangeness of her situation, she recognised grief when she saw it. These people had suffered losses even before this latest tragedy that was much clear. For now, she was merely an observer to the proceedings.

Bryan said nothing as they continued their pursuit of Saeran. Behind him, he continued to hear the lamentations of sorrow expressed by his friends at the loss of yet another one of their number. He kept his own grief contained, locked up in the same place he had kept his anguish at Tory's death. There would be a time when he would unleash all his pent up rage and let the tidal wave of fury do its worst but that time was not now. His friends needed him to keep a level head and he would do that. He had to fight the impulse to turn he car around and go seek out Sam and Pip who were now without their guardian. He fought it because Saeran was the greater evil and they needed to reach him first, while there was still time to save Eve and the world as well. Bryan trusted that Frank, Miranda and Eric could get to the children first.

_They had to_.

The others were still reeling with shock and grief and he would allow them that in the comfort of the car because soon they'd be called on to fight a monster that may be beyond all of them to stop. He however, would do what was necessary because while there was a nobler purpose to his actions, there was also a darker, underlying reason to press on no matter what.

Revenge.

* * *

Frank's fingers dug into the arm rest of the little hatchback they'd found shortly after they'd parted company with Bryan and Aaron, prompted by Fred's ominious warning that Sam and Pippin were in trouble. In front of him, the narrow, meandering road that cut through the countryside of North England rushed past him in a blur, struggling to keep up with the speed of the vehicle tearing up its aging path. Miranda was driving and her hands were clenched around the steering wheel, displaying the seldom seen driving skills she'd acquired during her years in the service of MI6.

Fred had been unable to tell them exactly where Sam and Pippin were, only that they were heading along the coast road of Wales. It made sense to Frank. With what was happening thanks to Saeran's rampage, people were fleeing the affected areas, clogging up the motorways that brought traffic to a standstill. They were trapped in their cars, feeding the frenzy of panic Saeran had ignited when he allowed the footage of London's destruction to be briefly televised across the world. Miranda had taken the most direct route to the northern coast, taking small roads that were really nothing more than stock trails, passing paddocks and cottages, single minded in her determination to reach her children.

Eric had come with them because the creature stalking the children was rather formidable by Fred's description and they might need the help. Secretly however, Frank suspected, Eric's motives lay a little closer to home. Until coming to Valinor, he had been alone in the world. Excepting his relationship with Jason Merrick, Eric had no other family and in finding Miranda, discovered not only a sister from that other life, but a family. Frank had no objection to the relationship, recognising it for what it was and liking the fact that Miranda had someone else to whom she could turn for comfort.

Anything that made his wife less inclined to turn inward in times of trouble suited him.

Eric had tried to convince Miranda that Jason would take care of them, trying to assuage his reincarnated sister's fears regarding the safety of her children. However, as Frank would have told him if he'd asked, it was a vain effort. Perhaps it was something that men would never understand, the deceptively gossamer thin thread that bound a mother to her children, that was stronger than steel. As a father of two, he had learned to recognise that there were just some fears that could not be allayed, no matter how well-meaning the words.

They'd bypassed St Ives, calculating that in the hours since the two groups had parted company, how far Jason would have driven. He would have taken the smaller coastal roads, avoiding the motorway, not only to avoid the traffic of fleeing travellers but also to keep a low profile. The Nine had been resurrected by Saeran which meant Morgul, the chief of the Nazgul, had re-entered the world. No doubt, the former Witch King would have returned with vengeful memories how he'd been sent to the shadow realm and who had sent him there. Yes, there was a good chance he'd send someone after them again, if he didn't show up himself.

Frank knew who Draugluin was. He'd spend enough time in the grand libraries of Tirion to make good use of their texts and while Elladan had acted as translater in the begining, eventually he grasped enough of Quenya and Sindarin to be able to read some of the historical volumes on his own. He knew of the beast that was called the 'Father of Werewolves' and was Sauron's servant in the First Age. The creature had been killed by the hero Beren and had been languishing in the Forbidden Vaults until David Saeran unleashed it into the world again.

He didn't tell Miranda any of this.

She sat ramrod straight behind the driver's seat, her fists clenched around the wheel, like she was ready to jump out of her skin at the slightest sound. Her single-mindedness made him anxious and only when they'd last encountered Morgul that Frank understood her former occupation had marked her. She radiated that same sense of menace that Bryan wore like a second skin. It was the training, Frank reasoned, training coupled with the primeval maternal instinct that would make a mother fight with everything they had, beyond reason, beyond anything that could be understood, to save her children.

"We should never have let them go," she finally broke the silence as the sea came into sight and they turned onto the coast road.

"You were trying to keep them safe," Eric reminded though he knew it would be no comfort to her. How could it be when his own thoughts were centred on the best friend who had saved his life more than once by being the voice of common sense?

"We thought sending them away would keep them safe," Miranda declared, her eyes searching the shore and the road ahead for any sign of her children but there was none. "We should have known Frank," she tossed Frank a look, her eyes moist with emotion. "Nowhere is safe, not now."

"Miranda," Frank finally spoke, reaching for her and clutching her arm. "Enough." He said firmly, his voice with an edge that broke no argument. "I need you focussed. I need you to keep emotion out of it..."

"What the hell..." Eric started to say when Frank silenced him with a raised hand.

"I need you at your best luv," Frank continued, "I need you sharp. Whatever's after our kids is still out of there and I need the MI6 agent to fight it. Yeah?" He met her gaze and hated his hard tone but he knew his wife, he knew what she needed and sometimes, it wasn't comfort.

Miranda's expression hardened and wiped away her tears with one hand before nodding at him. "Yeah." She answered. "I'm ready for it."

"I know you are," Frank said tenderly, filled with love and adoration for this woman, so damaged and yet capable of some much love that she swallowed his world with it.

Bloody hell, Eric thought silently, himself caught up in the moment, watching his sister's mate (yeah fuck it, Third Age or not, she _was_ his sister) give her exactly what she needed to regain her courage. Frank seemed on the face of him a mild personality but he was the soothing calm that Miranda needed so desperately.

Suddenly, Eric's eyes widened by a column of smoke in the distance. "Hey look at that."

Both Miranda and Frank's eyes were fixed on the same in a split second. Craning his neck, Frank tried to determine where the pillar of dark smoke originated. It was definitely up ahead but it didn't appear to be on the road. However, it was difficult to be sure as the smoke and the flames that undoubtedly caused it was still some distance away.

"It's them." Miranda said simply.

"Oh I don't know..." Frank replied, still trying to see ahead even though squinting didn't add anything to what he'd already viewed.

"It's _them_." She returned shortly, refusing to believe anything else.

Frank and Eric exchanged glances and knew well enough to leave alone as Miranda floored the accelerator and the car surged ahead beneath the increased revs of the engine. The small car sped along the road, overtaking a lorry that honked loudly at their audacity to usurp its place on the lane. The speed at which Miranda drove caused his worry to jump up a notch or two. He had tried to remain calm for her sake but now her paranoia was infectious and thoughts of his two children at the mercy of Draugluin began to cloud his reason.

Sam and Pippin had been pushed into the background because of Frank's concerns for Miranda but seeing that column of smoke sent a shot of stark fear through him. Was Miranda right? Were his boys in the middle of that? His hands dropped to the dashboard and his knuckles turned white as he leaned forward and tried to get a better of view of what had originated it. A few turns of the road later and they were moving past a rather bleak beach when suddenly they came across the remnants of a collision on the weathered bitumen road.

Their gazes followed the spray of shattered glass across the narrow road, a ruined side mirror ripped from a yet undiscovered vehicle and a radio antenna trailing dangling wires. The dark burn of tyre skid marks led them off the road, over the crushed grass and vegetation and down the embankment. Miranda brought the car to a abrupt halt when she saw the smoke was coming from whatever had landed at the bottom of the hill that ran down to the beach.

She exchanged a look of pure panic at Frank before she bolted out of the car and Frank followed soon after, heart pounding as loud as hers, forgetting Eric behind them as he joined his wife. Like her, the calm that he had been clinging to so he could be strong for her had been ripped away by the primal fear that the fire they were rushing to find was a funeral pyre for their children. Reaching the edge of the hill that led down to the beach, Miranda choked out a strangled gasp as she took in the scene before her.

Wolves.

She counted at least a dozen of them. The first of which lay across a few feet off her, its large, furry body, draped over the edge causing its mouth to drop open, its tongue lolling out the side of its mouth. The cause of death was obvious. The creature's furry pelt was riddled in bullet holes and the ground ran red with its blood. It wasn't alone in its dying.

The rest of its pack led the way down the hill, similarly killed, blood marking the spot where they had fallen. They had gone down the hill, hunting like a pack, Miranda thought through the fugue of anguish in her mind Someone had picked them off as they descended and instinctively, she knew it was Jason. Jason had cut them down as they closed in for the kill.

Catching up to her, Frank stopped short at the scene and saw the carcasses scattered all the way down the hill, leading them to the burning wreckage of a car that greatly resembled tone vehicle that Jason was driving north with Sam and Pippin.

"Oh God…." She started to sob.

"We don't know they were in there," he said taking her hand as they made their way past the dead wolves, ignoring the sight of blood.

Eric felt lt his stomach hollow when he reached Frank and Miranda, both at the sight of the dead animals and the the burning vehicle whose framework had held together long enough to make it recognisable. He saw the look of horror on Miranda's face and could not even begin to imagine what she was feeling now. He never had family and it because of that, it muted the need for children. However, he had gotten to know Sam and Pippin, hell even Fred and understood how precious they were.

Christ, he hoped Jason had got them out of the car safely.

The salty air of the sea carried the rancid smell of burning flesh across the beach, making his nose curl in disgust at the stench. For a moment, he was reminded of Vukovar. He'd been there during the siege and recalled the valiant thought ultimately doomed defence of the city as the superior Serbian army devastated the city with a brutality not seen since Stalingrad. With every new assault, another building was burned and sometimes, the occupants escaped, most of the time, they did not.

Eric felt like he was back there again.

The heat of the fire prickled their faces as they approached the vehicle, navigating to the flaming wreckage scattered across the beach, the result of a tremendous explosion that virtually torn it apart. There were doors lying against the sand in all directions, glass was melting from the tremendous heat and the noxious fumes of burning rubber forced them to remain a suitable distance. However, not all the debris was metal, glass and plastic, some of it was flesh. Large chunks of meat, some covered with matted fur, lay across the sand.

Across what would have been the windscreen of the car, if one had been left intact that is, was the carcasses of something exceedingly large, like a rhino maybe. Its haunches remained attached to its torso but its front legs and the massive head that must have been held by its bulk was gone. Only the jagged start of a vetebral column indicating where the skull must have been. Eric tried not to flinch as the sight of the creature's spine exposed by burnt away flesh.

"What the hell is it?" He asked, rounding the car to get a better look at it. "Some kind of bear?"

"No," Frank shook his head, "its a wolf."

"A wolf?" Eric exclaimed incredulously, "how can you tell. This thing is too damn big."

"The tarsals and metatarsals," Frank answered grimly. "Its canine."

"There's someone in there," Miranda said as she looked past the carcass and saw the remains of a body, badly charred with limbs missing. The skull was attached but if there was a face, it was surely gone by now. "I think..." she started to say and the words failed her although it was obvious who it was.

"What?" Eric demanded, suddenly feeling the blood drain from his face. No, Jason wasn't dead. The dumb Kiwi wasn't dumb enough to stick around and fight off the hound of Baskervilles. He would have taken the kids and run to safety. No way was that him in there.

"This is the car they were driving," Frank replied, no trace of doubt in his mind now. "The body in there is in an adult." His experience with fossils and bones allowed him to make that determination, much to his regret.

"Sam and Pip might still be alive," Miranda declared. "SAMMIE! PIP!" She ran off into the beach, calling out for them.

"Miranda!" Frank hollered after her, not wanting to simply leave Eric but he was just as anxious to find his children as she.

Eric didn't leave, he stood rooted to the spot, staring at the thing that was his friend. There was probably a dozen reasons that should have kept him from reaching that conclusion, the fact that there was no positive identification, that the body could belong to anyone, that it was more likely that Jason took the kids and bolted for safety but he knew it wasn't the truth. His friend was in that burning wreck. Standing there, watching the flames, he wanted to cry, wanted to shout at the unfairness of it but he couldn't.

He couldn't do anything but mourn.

* * *

"SAMMIE! PIP!" Miranda ran across the beach, leaving the scene of the wreck, searching the beach for any sign of tracks that might lead away from the wreck. The tracks that weren't washed away by the tide were too many to count. She had no doubt that this beach was often the favourite place for a walk. If there tracks leading away from the car, there was no way for Miranda to distinguish them from that of her children.

"Miranda wait!" Frank called out to her, struggling to maintain his speed on the uneven ground.

However, Miranda would have none of that and she called out again, her cries becoming more and more desperate when she reached the rocks that shouldered the surf. Climbing over them, she searched the area until the rocks ran into the cliffs. Desperation had snapped her reason and she called out again, her voice disintegrating until the anguish was heard through the cracks.

Frank struggled to keep pace with her until suddenly over the sound of the sea rushing against the rock, he heard another sound.

"MUM!"

Frank halted dead in his step for about a second, a sense of relief not felt since that moment in the delivery room before that first cry. Shuddering with gratitude with whatever deities that might be listening, he saw Miranda freeze similarly.

"MUM!" The cry again and it propelled him forward. It was Sam's voice, Frank realised.

"SAMMIE!" Miranda called out again.

From a small grotto at the base of the cliff, Miranda saw Sam emerge first. He came out past the rocks, undoubtedly to check that it was really her out there and made eye contact. His face lit up with all the light in the world and Miranda let out another gasp of gratitude before she hurried towards him. A few seconds later, she saw Pip emerged from the darkness, looking pale and afraid.

"Oh my babies!" She embraced Sam so hard when she reached him that she nearly lifted him off the ground. Crying in relief, she held him closed as his smaller arms wrapped around her and looked at Frank with tears in her eyes. Frank arrived at the same time as Pip and picked up his little dreamer, before the boy could utter a word.

"Are you both alright?" Miranda asked frantically as she looked at Sam and reached for Pip with one hand, pulling his head close enough to her to plant a kiss on his forehead whilst still in his father's arms.

"We're okay," Sam spoke as Pip nodded but his younger brother hadn't like the cave very much. "Uncle Jason told us to run. He said run and hide."

Miranda's eyes touched Frank and between them, they realised that it _was_ indeed Jason's body in the car. It made her think of Eric who wasn't with them.

"There were wolves daddy," Pip stared to speak, his small voice still trembling. "Lots of wolves and there was a big one. The biggest one we ever saw and it talked! It talked to Uncle Jason!"

"Uncle Jason told us to run," Sam said grimly perhaps sensing why Jason wasn't with mum and dad. He'd heard the explosion, just before he and Pip found the cave to hide. He knew that Uncle Jason was gone then, dead like Aunt Tory. He was sad. He liked Uncle Jason a lot and knew that it hadn't dawned on Pip yet. Mum and dad would explain it to him.

"We should go," Frank said to Miranda.

"Yes," Miranda nodded, her cheeks still damp from tears. "Come on."

* * *

_The Three awoke in their places of power._

_For more than a year, they lay sleeping, rendered inert by the removal of their master by enemies it did not know. Left in mundane and forgotten places, they waited, waiting to whisper its siren call to new purpose unto which they had been created had been left unfulfilled, the promise of a new order left to languish and wither. They had no will of their own, their magic given breath by the power of their creator and when he vanished, so was their strength._

_Until now._

* * *

_**UNIVERSITY BEHAVIORAL HEALTH OF DENTON**_

_**MILITARY WING**_

"How are you Walter?" General Dennis Etherton asked his old friend.

Lt. Colonel Walter Green, formerly of the United States Army was seated in a deck chair facing a well maintained garden that was flowering with primroses, daisies and sundrops. The chair was located under a magnolia tree, providing shade from the afternoon sun which was just as well since he was dressed in pajamas and a robe, despite it being the middle of the day.

Dennis frowned seeing his friend in this shape. They'd come up through the ranks together. They'd served in Korea, Vietnam, then in Kuwait and until his breakdown, Afghanistan. Green had been a good soldier and a better friend. While they had not been in each other's orbit the last two years, they had kept in touch and while Dennis was aware that Green had become entangled in a woman named Elizabeth who's death really did a number on him, at no time did he suspect his friend had gone off the deep end.

And gone off the deep end he had.

The man had attempted to launch nuclear missiles for Christ sake. He should have been shot for treason but it became clear after he'd been arrested that Green, a decorated soldier, had suffered a nervous breakdown of some kind. Dennis had pushed for the evaluation and eventually it was determined that Green had suffered a psychiotic break and could not be held accountable for his crimes. He was cashiered out of the army of course, there was no stopping that and chances were he'd spend the rest of his life inside padded walls but it was better than being stood in front of a firing squad.

"Still crazy Denny," Walter said staring at the garden, watching a bee bounce from flower to flower, following its daily ritual.

"Who isn't?" Dennis smiled, "here, I brought you something."

"Bottle of single malt?" Walter threw him a look.

"No," Dennis produced a small, velvet box. "I thought you might like to have it."

Walter stared at the box and then at him as Dennis handed it over.

"NO!" He swatted the box away once he realised what it was, watching it tumble across the grass. "GET IT AWAY FROM ME!" Walter started screaming.

"_What the hell Wally_?" Dennis stared at him shocked as he saw the man go completely to pieces, staggering away from him, arms flaying like he was trying to fight off invisible bats, screaming words that made no sense to him. Behind them, orderlies were running across the lawn as the commotion brought all eyes to them.

"Wally, its your engagement ring, the one that Elizabeth gave to you!" Dennis went to pick it up. The doctors had told him that the man had come to grips with his fiancee's death, that he was starting to get better. Had he made things worse.

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" He screamed, eyes wide with terror. 'IT TALKS!"

* * *

A short time later, after Wally had been dragged away, leaving Dennis stunned as he stood there in the garden where his friend had been, trying to understand how the man could have relapsed that fast. He planned on kicking the ass of the doctor who told him it was a good idea to give him the keepsake from his fiancee. What the hell had Doctor Wormer been thinking?

Searching the grass, he saw the velvet box had been splayed open and the gold ring that sat within beckoned him, sunlight bouncing off its gleaming surface. With a sigh, Dennis went over and bend down to pick it up, his fingers making contact with the gold.

For a moment it felt like he'd been by a charge of electricity. His fingers tingled. He pulled back and stared at it. Pretty thing. Chances were good Wally would never want it again, not after that display. Picking it up, he held the ring in his palm and thought it felt warm to the touch. Examining it, it was a simple gold band with some ornate designs on the inside. He stared at it for a long time, there in the sun, thinking that it was very beautiful and it was going to waste.

Ring like this should be worn, he thought.

For reasons he could not explain, Dennis Etherton slipped the ring on his finger, telling himself he was trying it on for size just for the hell of it. However, once it slipped onto his finger, he did not want to take it off again. It fit well, as if it had been on his finger always and taking it off would make his hand feel odd. Besides, its not like Wally would miss it.

Why shouldn't he _keep_ it?

* * *

_**WINSFORD VILLAGE**_

They'd stopped at Winsford, a small village located in the crossroads of several motor routes and fords, tucked far enough away from civilisation to maintain some of its charm. It boasted several buildings that dated back to the tenth century and had been a favoured getaway since the 1600s. It was probably why the picturesque town looked as if it could have been lifted from the pages of dusty old book. Often assailed by tourists who insisted on the 'authentic' English experience, only to realise upon arriving there was very little to do, the residents were undoubtedly grateful when they left and preferred its provincial existence.

It was perfect for what Bryan and his companions needed right now.

It's off the beaten track location meant that it escaped the flood of refugees living the areas that had been ravaged by Saeran's destructive rampage through the English countryside. The people of the community were confident that they had enough geographic anonymity to escape the unpleasantness that had gripped London and most of South England, starting from Cornwall. Nonetheless, there were few people about when Bryan drove into the town limits and he suspected that the sporadic television broadcasts that Saeran had allowed had sufficiently warned them that the indoors was the safest places to be.

Although Aaron was unhappy about abandoning their pursuit of Eve, Bryan felt it was important that they regroup with the others before proceeding and also because he was done chasing after David Saeran. So far, their cross country pursuit had achieved nothing and brought them no closer to the dark lord then when they had first set out from Valinor. Furthermore, Bryan was convinced if they continued teir dogged pursuit, they be too late to save Eve or anyone else for that matter.

They'd been one step behind Saeran since this had all began and it was a gap that was more distance. Saeran had used his time trapped in his prison of flesh to good measure. The bastard had emerged with a plan and he had put into effect with devastating finality. Even down to Tory's cruel end, Saeran had left nothing to chance. He'd kept the Valar out of the picture, he'd set the balrogs loose on Valinor to keep the elves busy and he'd killed Tory to Bryan off balance, while taking Eve for the same reason though Bryan suspected that wasn't the worst of it. He had a plan for Eve that Bryan suspected would send Aaron right off the planet if he knew what it was.

That was where Saeran had the advantage. He had a plan. They did not. They were just reacting to the destruction the dark lord threw their way, barely stepping out of the way before the next trial came. There was no time to breathe, no time to think about what was to be done. Bryan was determined for that to change. They'd spent too much time reacting and not acting. It was time for them to have a plan of their own.

After Frank and Miranda had checked in, informing them that the children were safe and confirming Fred's vision, that Jason was dead, Bryan had instructed them to head to Winsford so they could regroup, Jason's death had hit Eric badly, Miranda explained and Bryan could appreciate that. Eric and Jason had been in the thick of it together long before Valinor. Like soldiers who shared the battle field together Eric and Jason had moved from story to another, forging links stronger than steel or blood along the way. Only upon arriving at Valinor did they realise there was any purpose to it. Now Jason was gone and Bryan could only imagine how profound such a loss could be.

Perhaps that was Saeran's plan to break their spirit but harming the people who mattered to all of them, first Tory, then and now Jason.

Aaron was barely holding it together after news of what Saearan was doing to Eve had reached him. Of course Bryan knew that Saeran had a darker plan for the accelerated growth of the child in her belly but he was not about to bring that up with Aaron. Not in the man's current state of mind. Bryan considered voicing his suspicions to Legolas but the elf seemed preoccupied himself. He wasn't sure what had gone on between Legolas and his lady but it did not miss his notice that Ariel had chosen to go with Elrond instead of staying with him.

The yank pilot they'd picked up hadn't said much either. She had been animated in the beginning but with every ravaged town they encountered and the sporadic bursts of radio broadcasts revealing the extent of the dark lord's villainy in the world, she had grown quiet. He suspected that she was trying to process, trying to fit the pieces of this puzzle into what she knew of the world. He understood her difficulty, hadn't they all gone through it?

And then there was Fred.

The less Bryan thought about Fred and what was sharing her body, the better it would be. He suspected the answer was too big for all of them and he had a sense that the consciousness occupying her body would reveal itself when the time was right.

* * *

The Royal Oak Inn had begun its life as a farmhouse in the 12th century and had now evolved into a charming hotel that maintained its traditions by the décor of its rooms and common areas. Bryan had once spent a week here with red head whose name was Brandy or Sandy. He couldn't quite remember he was unashamed to admit. In any case, he remembered the place because of its appealing distance from civilisation and the fact that Winsford was on route to Bristol and an _airport_.

"I don't understand why we're waiting here," Aaron grumbled after they secured themselves a suit of rooms at top floor of the two storey hotel. "We should be going after Eve."

"Because," Bryan said sitting at the window, watching the road for the arrival of Frank and the family. "We need to regroup and we've been hard at it for the last week, we need to rest and plan our next move."

"Aaron," Legolas remarked, emerging from the next room, admiring some of the furnishings that were more to his liking than any he'd encountered in Arda since his first arrival. In a small way, it possessed the charm of the Shire folk. "We know your fears for Eve and we share it but Bryan is right. The lord of Mordor has schemed well in advance of us. With each step closer we take to him, he throws more trials in our path that are costing the lives of those we love. We must take steps to curtails further losses."

Aaron opened his mouth to argue but Legolas' words were hard to dispute especially since he was right; they'd lost Tory and Jason already. If they didn't do something different, they might lose Eve too.

"Alright," Aaron frowned, conceding defeat as he made his way to large comfy sofa in the middle of the room and placed himself in it heavily, running his fingers through his hair when he was seated. "I see your point."

"We know his plan is to launch a nuclear war," Bryan spoke. "He's scared everyone shitless with what he's doing in London but that's not enough. He's still a long way from the rest of the world. The Yanks aren't going to send missiles if the problem is still confined in Europe. Saeran might have let all the monsters out of the vaults but he doesn't have enough to think he could conquer a population of 7 billion people with what he's got.

"He does not need a vast army when he has awakened the three." Fred declared stepping out of one of the adjoining rooms where Bryan thought he'd left her to take a nap.

"The three?" Legolas asked.

"Yes," she nodded and recited softly, her words sounding out of this world and sent a shudder of disquiet through those present.

"_Three Rings forged in gold_

_One rests in the land of the far east_

_Another where the red star rules_

_The last to the lords of the new world_

_Three Rings bound to their master's call_

_Three Rings will bring doom to us all."_

"When did he have time to make three rings?" Aaron demanded indignantly, quite forgetting it was Fred he was speaking to, wanting his answers of the being who occupied her body.

Bryan didn't have to wait for Fred to speak to know the answer.

"You're talking about the rings that belonged to Walter Green and those generals in the Russian and Chinese army, aren't you?" He said softly. "We never did get them back."

There hadn't been any reason to. With Saeran imprisoned in Valinor, there had been no reason to take such precautions, especially in the wake of what had happened. Green had been locked up and the other two were almost certainly executed by their respective government.

"Jesus," Aaron hissed in dismay at the realisation.

"Sauron's rings sleep," Legolas sighed. "When he awoke, so did they. Like the One Ring."

"So his plan to have the superpowers launch nuclear weapons against each other is still on the table?" Aaron asked, even though he knew the answer to the question.

"Plans that are now in motion." Fred nodded.

"We have to stop them," Aaron replied. "We have to get to them and stop it."

"No," Bryan shook his head. "It's beyond that. Going after them will take up time we don't have. This begins and ends with him. We need to kill him."

"Bryan is correct," Fred replied, "our goal must to reach Sauron. None of his plans can come to fruition without him. The Nine are powerless without their master and removing him from this plane will restore Valinor and lower the wall he has erected between the Valar and the Undying Lands."

Lori stepped out of one of the bedrooms, clad in a bathrobe after taking a well deserved showeer. Drying her hair, she had listened in the other room, the discussion taking place between these people she had only met in a the last day. "I know I'm speaking as an outsider here," she announced herself. "So far your plan has been to chase after this guy. From what we've seen and what you've told me, its clear he'll never let you get that close."

"The daughter of Isaiah speaks the truth," Legolas agreed with Lothiriel's counterpart in this time.

Lori stiffened, still reeling from the fact that they'd met her father. In fact, her father was at this moment, sailing with an ancient fleet to fight the dark lord. The submarine commander and the elves. Now there was a sight.

"With the Nine, the armies of the Forbidden Vaults, the forces he has cultvated in Arda since his return, that have lain dormant until now, he will ensure these obstacles are placed in our path before we can ever reach him." Legolas continued. "It will be easy enough for him to kill us off one by one before he reaches his final destination."

"My what a cheery thought," Lori quipped. "I think you can drop me off at the next airport, if the shit is going to hit the fan, I prefer to be with my squadron."

"You will do more for this cause if you remain with us daughter of Isaiah," Fred turned to her.

"Okay, okay, just call me Lori," she declared to the little girl. It was really unsettling to hear the kid talk like she waa Yoda and worse yet, addressing her that way.

"But Fred's right," Aaron threw in. "You're better off helping us fight him then going off with your squadron. Judging by the news, the Nine and the dragons have been having a field day with them. I mean you know that for yourself."

She did. She'd barely survived her own encounter with a dragon and she didn't think many of her squadron had either. "Alright, point take but we need a plan better than what we've presently got because right now, the little girl is right on the money. You're chasing after this guy and he keeps one step ahead of you and by the sounds of it, working hard to drive you all nuts at the same time."

"So we won't try to catch up with him," Bryan said finally. "I didn't bring us here for no reason. This town is on the route to Bristol where there's an airport. I was going to get us to Saeran by flying us there but I'm thinking that perhaps the best thing to do is get ahead of him."

"You know where he is going?" Lori asked, thinking that she could contribute if they needed a pilot.

"We all do," Bryan replied, glancing at the others and though Fred was already there, it took only the others a second to join them as he saw the realisation dawn on them.

It was Legolas who said it first. "Mordor."

"Where?" Lori the uninitated asked.

"It was the seat of his power in the Third Age," the elf explained though he was convinced it would make no sense to the woman.

"Naturally," she overcame the obstacle quickly enough. "Where is now?"

"Romania," Aaron answered, "if you can believe it. In Translyvania."

"You're joking," she looked at them incredulously. "Translyvania as in Dracula's Translyvania?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Explains a little about why the region had produced some of the most blood thirsty rulers of all time. Elizabeth Bathory, Vlad the Impaler..."

Seeing the aghast expression on Lori's face, Bryan gave Aaron a silencing look. The woman was having a tough enough time coping with what they'd seen. Bryan didn't want her overwhelmed particularly when they might need the woman and her military connections somewhere down the line. Besides, she was Isaiah Hill's daughter and the submarine commander had proven to be an ally to the elves during this time. How she had come to be in their company was serendipidious to say the least, if not reeking of a bit of pre-destiny, so he was reluctant to have her leave their side for now.

"The fact is, we know where he's going and if we fly to Romania, we might just get to his fortress, or rather what's left of it before he get there."

"Are you sure he's going to be there?" She asked skeptically.

"He is a creature of habit," Legolas pointed out. "In this time, he chose that land to rebuild his kingdom. I do not doubt that in the moment of his greatest triumph, he would not reclaim it again."

"Alright," Lori conceded defeat. "If you can find us a plane in Bristol, I can get us there." She offered. If stopping this guy means saving the planet from nuclear armageddon, then I'm in."

"I am still concerned that with his power beyond what it was in the Third Age, he will still sense our approach. The last time we confronted him, Gandalf was with us. He was able to shield us from Sauron."

"He will not see us," Fred spoke with some finality. "Where we are, he cannot look. Not with a palantir or his own vast powers. We will be free to approach the seat of his former glory. I will ensure it."

Lori wanted to ask the little girl how she could be so sure but the uneasy look on the faces of the men kept her from asking. There was something going on in that little body, something that none of them were ready to face yet.

Of all the strange things she had seen so far, it was quite possible that Fred was the strangest.


	15. Chapter 15

Hi everyone,

Just a quick word. I know there are many of you following this story and I can only apologise for all the delays. As you can imagine, this one has been a hard one to write and my only excuse for all the pauses is that life gets in the way.

Do know that I have outlined the last three chapters and have started the first of them. I plan to finish Chapter Fourteen by Christmas at the earliest, New Year at the latest. My new years resolution for this story is to keep going until I'm done without any further pauses.

Thank you for all the encouragement I have received over the years to old fans and new for the stories I have been writing and I hope my ending does not disappoint.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Love to all,

Scribe


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